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IN  S  IVAN  AGE   BAYr—Fage^^. 


THE 


Fourth  Keadee 


BY 


LEWIS    B.    MONROE, 


DKAN  OF  BOSTON   UNIVERSITY  SCHOOL,  OF  ORATORY. 


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PHILADELPHIA: 

E.  H.  Butler  &  Co. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  CongressHnthe  Year  1872,  by 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress',  at  Washington. 


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u  /J  J. 


y'l    .  --'— 


EDUCATION  DEPT, 


Westcott  &  Thomson,  Sherman  A  Co. 

Stereotypers  and  Electrot]/pera,  PhUadii.  Printers,  PhiUtda. 

74 


Pee  FACE. 


WHATEVER  other  office  a  reading-book  should  serve  in  a 
school-room,  we  believe  all  are  agreed  that  one  of  its 
main  purposes  is  to  teach  articulation  and  pronunciation — the 
utterance  of  language.  We  have  local  faults  and  peculiarities 
of  pronunciation,  or  "provincialisms,"  in  every  section  of  the 
land.  Besides  these,  the  constant  influx  into  this  country  of 
foreigners  from  every  nation  upon  the  earth  has  a  tendency  to 
corrupt  our  speech.  Foreign  adults  learn  the  language  im- 
perfectly, and  speak  it  with  a  brogue  or  accent.  Where  they 
form  a  large  proportion  of  the  population — as  is  the  case  in 
many  localities — their  blemishes  and  defects  are  copied  by  chil- 
dren, until  in  whole  communities  the  language  becomes  per- 
verted. The  school-room  is  almost  the  only  place  where  a 
remedy  can  be  applied.  We  have  presented,  therefore,  in  the 
Introduction  to  this  book,  the  best  means  of  which  we  have  any 
knowledge  for  correcting  these  defects,  and  stemming  the  tide 
which  would  drift  our  noble  language  from  its  moorings.  A 
guide  is  given  for  the  formation  of  every  vowel  and  consonant, 
by  figures  and  diagrams  illustrating  the  position  of  the  organs 
of  speech  required  for  each. 

In  carrying  out  this  idea,  we  have  been  fortunate  in  securing 
the  cooperation  of  Mr.  A.  Graham  Bell,  whose  wonderful  suc- 
cess in  teaching  deaf-mutes  to  speak  has  afforded  the  most 
striking  demonsiration  of  the  merits  of  this  physiological  system 
of  instruction.  Educators  who  may  wish  to  study  the  subject 
still  more  closely,  and  learn  all  the  possibilities  of  the  organs, 
are  referred  to  the  volume  entitled  Visible  Speech,  by  Prof.  A. 
Melville  Bell. 

We  trust  that  the  method  of  teaching  the  meaning  of  words 
through  the  "  exercises  "  at  the  end  of  the  lessons  will  commend 
itself  to  teachers,  and  that  they  will  enlarge  very  much  upon  the 
plan  thus  indicated.  The  repetition  of  formal  definitions  rarely 
leaves  any  impression  upon  a  child's  mind.  Words  are  tools: 
by  using  them  we  find  out  what  they  are  good  for ;  but  telling 
their  purpose,  instead  of  working  with  them,  does  little  to  in- 
-urease  their  usefulness  in  our  hands. 

^^  L.  B.  M. 

M56002 


To  Teaohees, 


THE  natural  mode  of  acquiring  language  is  through  the  ear.  If  a 
child  should  hear  nothing  but  correct  pronunciation,  he  would 
pronounce  correctly,  even  though  he  might  not  attend  school  or  have 
special  instruction  in  language  for  a  day.  But  unfortunately  he  imitates 
the  defects  quite  as  much  as  the  merits  of  those  to  whom  he  listens.  In 
the  course  of  a  few  years  the  habits  of  the  organs  of  speech  become  fixed, 
the  ear  is  less  impressible,  and  the  individual  retains  the  faults  early 
acquired. 

The  remedy  is  to  substitute  a  conscious,  intelligent  use  of  the  organs 
for  the  instinctive  action  which  is  natural.  If  a  syllable  is  mispro- 
nounced, it  is  because  the  organs  of  speech  are  placed  in  a  wrong  posi- 
tion. The  pupil  must  be  taught  to  observe  the  action  of  the  tongue  and 
lips,  and  to  substitute  the  right  position  for  the  wrong  one. 

The  following  examples  will  illustrate  this : 

Substitution  of  t  or  d  for  th. — A  child  says  tree  for  three,  tcid  for  tcith,  fader 
for  father.  This  is  because  the  tip  of  the  tongue  is  placed  too  high — behind 
the  upper  teeth  or  against  the  gums,  instead  of  under  the  points  of  the  upper 
teeth.  In  obstinate  cases  the  child  should  be  required  to  protrude  the  tongue 
between  the  teeth,  and  make  a  prolonged  sound  of  th.  The  sound  of  t  cannot, 
from  its  nature,  be  prolonged. 

N  for  ng. — Thus :  goin'  for  going.  This  very  common  fault  is  caused  by 
touching  the  point  of  the  tongue  against  the  upper  gums,  in  the  position  of  t, 
instead  of  bringing  the  back  of  the  tongue  against  the  palate,  in  the  position 
of  k  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  articulation  should  be  made,  not  with  the  tip,  but  with 
the  back,  of  the  tongue. 

Omission  of  the  sound  of  r. — For  instance,  bah  for  bar,  euh  for  ear.  This  is 
because  the  tongue  is  allowed  to  lie  inactive  at  the  moment  when  the  sound  of 
r  should  be  produced.  The  tip  of  the  tongue  should  be  raised  and  turned  a 
little  backward  to  give  the  true  sound  of  this  letter. 

B  for  v. — Thus :  gib  for  give.  This  is  because  the  lips  touch  each  other, 
when  the  lower  lip  should  be  brought  in  contact  with  the  upper  teeth. 

Substituting  the  neutral  vowel  (u  in  urn)  for  short  i. — Thus :  pupul  for  pupil, 
habut  for  habit,  nt  for  it.  This  is  because  the  tongue  lies  relaxed  in  the  mouth, 
instead  of  being  raised  to  its  highest  position.  Lifting  the  tongue  costs  an 
effort,  and  indolence  or  negligence  substitutes  the  easier  or  lazier  position. 

Our  advice  to  teachers  is  to  depend  upon  the  ear  as  far  as  possible  for 
the  correction  of  errors  in  pronunciation  ;  but  where  this  will  not  suffice, 
resort  to  the  physiological  mode  here  indicated.  It  is  recommended 
that  a  short  exercise  from  the  Introduction  be  given  before  each  lesson 
in  reading,  dwelling  especially  on  those  vowels,  consonants,  or  com- 
binations upon  which  the  pupils  are  most  liable  to  mistake. 


COI^TEI^TS. 


PART   I. 

SOUNDS  OF  THE  ENGLISH  LANGUAGE. 

Art.  Paob 

I.    Vowels ,    .  13 

II.    Diphthongs 17 

III.  Consonants 19 

IV.  Consonant  Combinations 26 


PART    II. 

READING   LESSONS. 

PROSE. 

I.    Two  Kinds  op  Fun Jacob  Abbott.    .    .  31 

III.     A.UDUBON  AND  HIS  PICTURES 35 

V.    Stoop! 37 

VII.    The  Lost  Penknife T.  S.  Arthur.     .    .  39 

IX.    The  Fire-Flies 44 

XI.    The  Merry  Autumn  Days 48 

XV.    The  Magpie 54 

XVII.    The  Two  Apprentices 58 

XIX.    The  Launch J.  T.  Trowbridge  .  60 

XXI.    First  Hours  in  the  Country     .       Helen  8.  Conant    .  63 

XXII.    The  First  Butterfly Helen  8.  Conant    .  67 

XXIV.    Learning  TO  Swim      .    .    .    ^^Lav)re7ice's  AdventuresJ'^  71 

XXVI.    A  Dog  Saving  a  Ship 75 

XXVIII.    Flowers  and  their  Stories  .    .       C.  L.  Matteaux.     .  80 

XXX.    The  Story  of  Some  Hot  Water 84 

XXXII.    The  Three  Colors Mrs.  Prosser.    .    .  87 

XXXIV.    Half  the  Profit 88 

XXXVT.    The  Pet  Fawn E.  Johnson.   ...  91 

XXXVIII.   The  Nail-Maker 96 

7 


CONTENTS. 


Art.  Paqb 

XL.    A  Wonderful  Parrot 99 

XLIV.    Underground    Travels.      (Part 

First.) a  L.  Matteaux.  .    108 

XLV.    Underground    Travels.      (Part 

Second.) a  L.  Matteaux.  .    110 

A  Lesson  from  a  Dog 115 

Fish  Farms Olive  Thorne.    .  .    118 


XLVII. 

XLIX. 

LI. 

LIIL 

LV. 

LVIL 

LIX. 

LXI. 

LXIII. 

LXV. 

LXVII. 

LXIX. 

LXXI. 

LXXIII. 

LXXV. 

LXXVIL 

LXXIX. 

LXXXI. 

LXXXIII. 

LXXXV. 

LXXXIX. 

XCI. 

XCIIL 

xcv. 

XCVII. 
XCVIII. 

c. 

CI. 

cv. 
evil. 

CIX. 
CXI. 

CXIII. 


The  Old  French  Tinker 122 

Turning  the  Grindstone   .    .    .       Charles  Miner.  .    .  124 

Sir  Isaac  Newton Bulfinch 128 

Habits  of  Flowers 130 

The  Humming-Bird 133 

The  Dervise  and  the  Camel 136 

The  Mountain  Brook Children's  Hour.  .  139 

Frederick  and  his  Page 141 

Links  in  the  Chain Mrs.  Prosser.     .    .  143 

The  Lost  Gold-Piece 145 

The  King  and  the  Goose-Herd 149 

More  Haste,  Less  Speed 155 

The  Poor  Tavern-Keeper 157 

The  Captive  Woodchuck 161 

The  Muscles 164 

The  Lawyer's  Advice 167 

The  Gunpowder-Harvest 171 


Anna  Wilmot.  . 


175 
185 


Elihu  Burritt.  . 
Jane  Taylor.  . 
James  Northcote. 

Emilie  Gfrahnm. 

Emilie  Gh'aham. 


The  Woodpecker 

Leaves 

The  Happy  Family 

The  Discontented  Pendulum    . 

Stone  Broth 

Our  Earth's  Brothers  and 
Sisters.    (Part  First.)    .... 

Our  Earth's  Brothers  and 
Sisters.    (Part  Second.)    .    .    . 

The      Traveling      Musicians. 

(Part  First.) 206 

The      Traveling      Musicians. 

(Part  Second.) 208 

Pickerel-Fishing Jacob  Abbott.    . 

On  the  Mexican  War John  C.  Calhoun 

Composition Matthew  Brown. 

Thanksgiving  Dinner  at  Plum- 
field    L.  M.  Alcott. 

Bunker  Hill  Monument— what 
Good?  


191 
195 


201 


215 
224 


231 


Edward  Everett. 


Art. 

II. 

IV. 

VI. 

VIII. 

X. 

XII. 

XIV. 

XVI. 

XVIII. 

XX. 

XXIII. 

XXV. 

XXVII. 

XXIX. 

XXXI. 

XXXIII. 

XXXVII. 

XXXIX. 

XLI. 

XLIII. 

XLVI. 

XLVIII. 

LII. 

LIV. 

LVI. 

LVIII. 

LX. 

LXII. 

LXIV. 

LXVI. 

LXVIII. 

LXX. 

LXXII. 

LXXIV. 

LXXVI. 

XXVIII. 

LXXX. 

LXXXII. 

LXXXIV. 

LXXXVI. 

XC. 

l« 


CX)NTENTS. 

9 

POETEY. 

The  Bluebird 

Our  Ships 

Emily  H.  Miller 

Page 
.      34 
.      36 

The  Beauties  of  Summer    .    . 

.      89 

The  Best  that  I  Can  .... 

.      42 

Field  Lilies 

.      47 

The  Open  Door 

.      50 

Courage,  Boy,  Courage  ! 54 

Good  Life,  Long  Life H.  Bonar  ....  57 

The  Life-Boat 59 

Sleighing  Song Emily  H.  Miller.  .  63 

The  Wind  and  the  Breeze 70 

Little  Jerry,  the  Miller      .    .       J.  O.  Saxe.     ...  73 

Mrs.  Grammar's  Ball 78 

My  Friend  in  the  Wood     .    .    .       Capern 84 

"Look  Aloft" 86 

A  Summer  Morning's  Song 88 

The  Wind  and  the  Moon    .    .    .       Oeo.  Macdonald 

The  Water Motherwell.  .    . 

The  Summer  Squall J.  T.  Trowbridge 

A  Day  in  Early  Hay-Time    .    .       C.F.  Gerry.   . 

The  Magpie's  Lecture 113 

The  Solitary  Reaper 117 


94 


101 
106 


A  Little  House 

The  Foolish  Harebell   .    .    . 

TJIB  Frost 

The  Golden  Coin 

Better  than  Gold 

The  Sailor's  Mother   .... 

A  Rainbow 

The  Sailor's  Song 

The  Butterfly 

Beauty 148 

The  Jolly  Old  Crow 154 


Geo.  Macdonald.  . 
Miss  Gould.  .    .    . 

Alexander  Smart. 
W.  Wordsworth.  . 
Henry  Sutton.  .  . 
B.  W.  Procter.  .  . 
Wordsworth.      .    . 


123 
126 
129 
133 
135 
138 
140 
142 
144 


The  Linnet  Choir  .  .  . 
The  Battle  of  Blenheim 
All  's  for  the  Best  .  .  . 
The  Captain's  Daughter 
Writing  on  Sand  .... 
The  Little  Heart's-ease 
Birds  in  Summer  .... 
The  King  of  the  Wind  . 


Capern 157 

Southey 159 


M.  F.  Tupper.  . 
J.  T.  Fields.  .    . 


Mary  Howitt. 
Eliza  Cook.    . 


163 
166 
170 
173 
179 
188 


10  CONTENTS. 

Abt.  Page 

XCII.    Invocation  to  Rain  in  Summer       W.  C.  Bennett.  .    .  190 

XCIV.    Little  BeIjL, TTws.  Westwood.  .  193 

XCVI.    The  Village  Blacksmith  .    .    .       Longfellow.  .    .    .196 

XCIX.    Landing  of  the  Pilgkim  Fathers   Mrs.  Hemans.  .    .  205 

CII.    The  Ship  on  Fire O.  Mackay.   ...  210 

CIV.    The  Three  Bells J.  G.  Whittier.  .    .  214 

CVI.    In  Swan  AGE  Bay D.  M.  Mulock.  .    .  220 

CVIII.    Evening  at  the  Farm     ....       J.  T.  Trowbridge  .  226 
ex.    Wat    Tyler's   Address   to  the 

•               King Thomas  Campbell.  230 

CXII.    Longing  for  Home Jean  Ingelow.  .    .  235 

DIALOGUES  AND  CONCERT  READINGS. 

XIII.    The  Bad  Hat 52 

XXXV.    Naming  the  Ship Jean  Ingelow    .    .  90 

XLII.    Honest  Jacob 108 

L.    The  Christmas  Tree 121 

LXXXVII.    Geyser  Springs 181 

LXXXVIII.    The  Emigrants Charles  Mackay,  .  184 

CHI.   The  Money  Panic 211 

CXIV.    PaALM  OF  Praise Bible  Manual.  .    .  238 


DIAGRAM  OF  THE  ORGANS  OF  SPEECH. 


1.  Windpipe. 

2.  Vocal  cords. 

3.  Pharynx. 

4.  Soft  palate. 

6.  Action   of  the   soft    palate  in 
closing  the  nasal  passage. 


6.  Tongue. 

7.  Point  of  the  Tongue  raised. 

8.  Teeth, 

9.  Lips. 

10.  Nasal  passage. 

11.  Nostrils. 


12 


OF   THE 


English  Language 


VOWELS.  ';.,;,j?^''^''^^''**''' 

E  as  in  EJeL— Long  vowel. 

Separate  the  teeth  slightly.  Extend  the  lips  sidewise.  Raise  the  convex 
surface  of  the  tongue  as  near  the  roof  of  the  mouth  as  can  be  done  without 
obstructing  the  voice. 

P^at,   l^ap;   b^at, 

glebe;  meed, de^m; 

wh^el ;    w^e ;    fear, 

l^af;    v^er,    leave; 

theme,  t^eth ;  th^e, 

seethe  ;  s^al,  lease  ; 

zeal,   tease;    teal, 

m5at;    deal,  mead; 

n4ed,  dean ;    cheer, 

l^ach  ;    jeer,    li^ge  ; 

lead,  feel;   read,   bar;  she,   leash;    h^;    y^;    k^y,  l^ak;    g^ar, 

league.* 

I  as  in  111.— Short  vowel. 

The  position  of  the  organs  is  very  nearly  the  same  as  in  producing  e,  the 
tongue  being  a  very  little  lower. 

Pin,  hip;  bin,  fib;  mid,  him;  which;  win;  fin,  if;  vintage, 
live;   thin,  myth;   this,  with;   sink,  miss;   zink,  fizz;   tip,  sit; 

*  The  marks  over  the  vowels  indicate  ( ^ )  the  rising  and  ( ^ )  falling  inflec- 
tions. The  teacher  may  carefully  pronounce  two  words  in  succession  (or  one 
only  where  the  combination  of  vowel  and  consonant  cannot  be  reversed)  with 
the  inflections  as  indicated,  and  require  the  pupils  to  repeat  them  after  him, 
and  so  on  through  the  exercise.     In  the  subsequent  exercises  the  inflections 

may  be  varied  at  the  discretion  of  the  teacher. 

13 


14 


THE   FOURTH    READER. 


dip,  lid ;  nib,  in ;  chip,  pitch ;  jig,  midge ;  lip,  pill;  rick,  mirror 
ship,  dish;  hit;  kill,  wick;  gig,  wig. 

A  as  in  Ale.— Long  vowel. 

The  teeth  and  lips  are  separated  a  little  farther  than  in  producing  e,  and  the 
tongue  is  dropped  lower.  Toward  the  end  of  the  sound  the  organs  return  fo 
an  instant  to  the  position  of  e ;  so  that  the  sound  may  be  said  to  taper,  as  \ 
were,  to  a  point.  A  may  be  considered  a  double  vowel  made  up  a  +  e.  Th; 
latter  sound  must  not  be  prolonged  in  uttering  this  letter. 

Pay,  ape ;  bay, 
[  v'.bab^;  may,  fame; 
wKale ;  way ;  fane, 
safe ;  vane,  save ; 
thane,  faith;  they, 
lathe ;  sane,  pace ; 
zany,  days ;  tale, 
late;  dale,  lade; 
nay,  fane ;  chain ; 
jay,  age;  lay,  veil; 
:ay ;  shape ;  azure ;  hay ;  yea ;  cave,  ache ;  gate,  vague. 


B  as  in  Ebb.— Short  vowel. 

The  mouth  is  in  the  same  position  as  in  producing  the  first  part  of  a. 
Pet,  step;   bet,  web;  met,  them;  when;  wet;  fell,  clef;  ve:Ji 
never;  theft,  death;  then,  tether;  set,  less;  zest,  hesitate;  teU 
bet;  dell,  bed;  net,  then;  check,  etch;  gem,  edge;  led,  bell;  red, 
berry;  shell,  mesh;, head,  yet;  ken,  beck;  get,  beg. 

A  as  in  Air.— Long  vowel. 

Separate  the  teeth  a 
little  more  than  in  the 
preceding.  Drop  the 
tongue  still  lower,  but 
not  quite  to  its  natural 
position. 

Pair,  bare,  mare ; 
where,  ware;    fare; 
there;     saraband; 
tear,    dare ;     chair ; 
lair;  rare;  share;  hare;  yare;  care,  garish. 


VOWELS. 


16 


A  as  in  At.— Short  vowel. 

Same  position  of  the  organs  as  for  a  in  air. 
Pan,  nap;  ban,  nab;  mat,  lamb;  whack,  wag;  fan,  gaff;  van, 
have ;  thank,  hath ;  than,  lather ;  sad,  mass ;  as ;  tack,  bat ;  dab, 
bad ;  gnat,  man ;  chat,  batch ;  jam,  badge ;  lap,  shall ;  rap,  barren ; 
shad,  mash  ;  hat ;  yam ;  cat,  hack ;  gat,  hag ;  bang. 


A  as  in  Far.— Long  Vowel. 

The  mouth  is  wide  open,  and  the  tongue  in  its  natural  flat  position. 
Palm,  gape ;  balm ; 
mar,  arm ;  far,  half; 
vaunt,  halve;  barn, 
path;  father;  salve, 
farce ;  czar,alms ;  tar, 
aunt;  daunt,  bard; 
charm,  march; 
jaunt, barge;  laugh; 
hurrah,  far ;  hark ; 
yard;  calm;  guard. 


A  as  in  Past.— Short  vowel. 

The  organs  are  very  nearly  in  the  same  position  as  for  a  in  far,  the  tongue 
being  a  very  little  higher.  Try  to  shorten  the  sound  of  a  in  far,  and  the  right 
sound  will  be  produced. 

Past,  mast,  fast,  vast,  trance,  dance,  chance,  last,  ranee,  can't, 
gasp. 

U  as  in  Urn.— Long  vowel. 

The  mouth  is  opened 
less  than  in  producing  a 
in  far,  and  the  back  of 
the  tongue  is  a  little 
more  depressed.  The 
muscles  of  the  mouth 
are  held  less  firmly  than 
in  the  other  vowels. 

Pearl,  burn,  mirth, 
whirl,  word,  furl, 
virtue,   thirst,   sir, 
turn,  dirt,  nurse,  church,  germ,  lurk,  shirk,  hurt,  cur,  girt. 


16 


THE   FOURTH   READER. 


U  as  in  Up.— Short  vowel. 

Nearly  the  same  position  as  the  above,  but  the  organs  are  more  firm. 
Pun,  up;  bun,  tub;  mud,  sum;  one;  fun,  puff;  vulture,  love- 
thud,  doth ;  sup,  us ;  buzz ;  tub,  but ;  dun,  bud ;  nut,  sun ;  chub, 
much;  jut,  nudge;  lug,  gull;  rug;  shut^  hush;  hull;  cut,  tug; 
gun,  tug. 

A  as  in  Arwe.^Long  v-Q-wel. 

The  mouth  is  wide 
open,  with  the  lips  some- 
what drawn  in  at  the  cor- 
ners, or  rounded.  The 
tongue  is  depressed  be- 
low its  natural  position. 

Pall,  yaup;    ball, 

daub ;  maul,  shaurn ; 

warm;  fault;  vault; 

thaw ;    saw ;   cause ; 

talk,  caught;  dawn, 
awed;  gnaw,  lawn;  chaw,  debauch;  jaw;  law,  fall;  raw,  war; 
shawl ;  haw ;  yawn  ;  caw,  hawk ;  gall. 


O  as  in  Not.— Short  vowel. 

Nearly  the  same  position  as  the  preceding. 
Pod,  top ;  bog,  knob ;  mob,  Tom ;  what ;  wan ;  fog,  odd ;  volley, 
of;  thong,  moth;   bother;   sod,  loss;   was;   top,  notj  dot,  not; 
knob,  on;    chop,  botch;   jot,  lodge;    lot,  doll;    rod,  for;   shop, 
wash ;  hot ;  yon ;  cot,  lock ;  got,  log. 


O  as  in  Old.— Long  vowel. 

The  lips  are  rounded  and  the  tongue  depressed.  This  letter,  lik»  a,  changes 
its  sound  toward  the  end, 
terminating  in  a  mo- 
mentary sound  of  oo, 
produced  by  contracting 
the  lips. 

Pole,  hope ;  bowl, 
lobe;  moan,  home; 
whoa ;  woke ;  foe, 
loaf;  vote,  cove; 
loth;  though;  soak, 
dose;  zone,  doze;    torn,   boat;  dome,  bode;  no,  own;  <;hoke. 


DIPHTHONGS. 


17 


coach ;  joke,  doge  ;   low,  pole ;   row,  pore ;   show ;   hoe,  yoke ; 
coat,  oak ;  goat,  vogue. 

O  as  in  Ore,— Short  vowel. 

Same  sound  as  the  first  part  of  the  preceding.     It  has  not  the  sound  oo  at 
the  end. 

Pore,  bore,  more,  wore,  fore,  sore,  tore,  door,  ignore,  chore, 
lore,  roar,  shore,  hoar,  yore,  core,  gore. 


Oo  as  in  Ooze.— Long  vowel. 

Round  and  contract  the 
lips  as  much  as  can  be 
done  without  obstructing 
the  voice.  Depress  the 
tongue. 

Pool, loop;  boom; 

moon,   loom;   woo; 

fool,    hoof;    move; 

tooth;  soothe;  soon, 

goose ;  zoozoo,  ooze ; 

too,  boot ;  do,  rude ; 
noon,  boon;   choose,  smooch;  gamboge;   loo,  pool;  rue,  poor 
shoe;  who;  coo;  gourmand. 


Oo  as  in  Book.— Short  vowel. 

Same  position  as  the  preceding. 
Put,  hoop;   book;   wood;   full;   forsook;   took;  nook;  look 
rook;  should;  hood;  could;  good. 


II. 

DIPHTHOJ^GS, 
U  as  in  Use. 

This  sound  is  made  up  of  a  momentary  sound  of  i  as  in  t'W  joined  to  oo  as  in 
ooze.  Its  pronunciation  is  identical  with  that  of  the  pronoun  you.  In  many 
positions  it  is  very  difficult  of  utterance — as  after  a,  t,dox  I  in  the  same  syllable 
^and  should  be  carefully  practiced. 

4  2 


18 


THE   FOUETH   READER. 


Pew,  dupe ;  beau- 
ty, tube ;  mew,  fume ; 
whew  ;  few ;  view  ; 
thew;  sue, use;  use; 
tube,  mute;  dew, 
feud;  new,  tune; 
chew;  jew,  huge; 
lute,  mule  ;  pure ; 
hue;  cue,  duke; 
gew-gaw,  fugue. 


nailAL  POSITION. 


FINAL  POSITION. 


^I  as  in  Piif. 

This  sound  is  made  up  of  a  as  in  art,  joined  to  ?  as  in  ill. 

Pie,  type;  by, 
imbibe;  my,  time; 
why ;  wine ;  fie,  life ; 
vie,  dive;  thigh; 
sigh,  ice;  size;  tie, 
sight;  die,  side; 
nigh,  fine ;  chide ; 
gibe,  oblige;  lie, 
vile;  rye, wire;  shy; 
high;   kite,  like; 

INITIAL  POSITION.  gulde.  FINAL  POSITION. 


Ou  as  in  Out. 

This  is  made  up  of  a  as  in  art,  followed  by  oo  as  in  look 

Pout,  bow ;  mouth ; 
wound;  foul;  vow; 
thousand,  south; 
sound,  house; 
zounds,  vows;  town, 
out;  down,  loud; 
now,  town ;  chow- 
der, pouch ;  jounce, 
gouge ;  loud,  owl ; 
row,  our;   shout; 

INITIAL  POSITION.  how  ;    cow  ;    gout.  final  POSITION. 


CONSONANTS. 


19 


Oi  as  in  Oil. 

This  is  made  up  of  a  as  in  aice,  followed  by  I  as  in  pin. 
Poise;  boy;  moil;  foil,  coif ;  void;  soil,  voice;  toys;  doit,  void', 
noise,  coin;  choice;  joy;  alloy,  oil;  royal;  hoy;  coil. 


Bring 
the  lips. 


III. 

coj\rsoj\rAj\rTs. 

P  as  in  Pin.— Aspirate. 

the  lower  against  the  upper  lip ;  make  a  slight  puff  of  breath  from 

Peel,  keep ;  pit, 
tip ;  pale,  cape ;  pen, 
rep;  pare;  pack, 
tap;  part;  pass; 
pert;  pug,  cup; 
paw,  yaup;  pop, 
hop;  post,  cope; 
port ;  poor,  coop ; 
pull;  purC;  dupe; 
pine,  wipe;  pound; 
spoil. 

B  as  in  Bib.— Sub- vocal. 

Same  position  as  for  p,  directing  a  sound  of  the  voice  toward  the  lips  while 
they  are  closed. 

Bean,  feeble ;  bit,  nib ;  bail,  label ;  bet,  ebb ;  bare ;  bat,  cab ; 
bar;  birth;  but,  hub;  balk,  davib;  bonny,  hobble;  boast,  robe; 
boon,  ruby ;  bull ;  bugle,  tube ;  bite,  tribe ;  bound ;  boil. 


M  as  in  Me.— Liquid  Sub- vocal. 

Same  position  of  the  lips  as  for  p  or  b  ;  the  sound 
is  emitted  through  the  nose. 

Me,  seem ;  mist,  dim ;  mate,  tame ;  men, 
hem ;  mare ;  man,  ham;  mark,  harm ; 
mass ;  mermaid ;  mucH,  hum ;  maw : 
mock,  comment ;  moat,  tome ;  more ; 
move,  room;  mute,  flume;  mite,  dime; 
mouth;  turmoil. 


20 


THE   FOURTH   READER. 


'WTi  as  in  "WTieel.— Aspirate. 

Slightly  contract  and 
round  the  lips  and  bring 
them  nearly  together. 

Wheeze,  whip, 
whaler,  whet,  where, 
whang,  whirl, 
whoop,  whoa. 

"W  as  in  "Woo.— 
Sub-vocal. 

Weep,  wish,  wait,  web,  wear,  wax,  worst,  once,  wall>  wad,  woe^ 
wore,  woof,  wool,  wise,  wound. 


P  as  in  Fife.— Aspirate. 

Bring  the  lower  lip  against  the  upper  teeth. 

Feed,  reef;  fit, 
whiff;  fail,  waif; 
fed,  deaf;  fair;  fact, 
afford ;  farm,  calf ; 
fasten,  staff;  fern, 
turf;  fuss,  rough; 
fall,  cough;  fop, 
offence ;  foes,  oaf; 
fore;  fool,  roof; 
foot;  few;  fine, rife; 
found;  foist. 


V  as  in  Vine.— Sub- vocal. 

Veal, weave;  villain,  restive;  vale,  wave;  vest,  ever;  vat, have; 
raunt,  salve ;  vast ;  verge ;  vulgar ;  volume ;  devote,  rove ;  move ; 
review ;  vine,  hive ;  vowel ;  voice. 

*  An  arrow  denotes  the  direction  in  which  the  breath  or  sound  escapes.  A 
fiouble  arrow  indicates  that  the  breath  is  divided  in  its  passage  outward,  as  at 
ine  two  sides  of  the  tongue,  or  through  the  interstices  of  the  teeth. 


CONSONANTS. 


21 


Th  as  in  Thin. — Aspirata 

Flatten  the  tongue  and 
place  the  end  of  it  against 
the  edge  of  the  upper 
teeth. 

Theory,  sheath; 
thick,  smith;  tha- 
ii^a,  wraith;  es- 
thetic, breath; 
thank, hath;  wrath; 
thermal;  thump, 
doth ;  thought,  broth ;  oath ;  youth ;  mouth. 


Th  as  in  This.— Sub- vocal. 

These,  breathe;  this,  wither;  they,  bathe-  them,  weather; 
there;  that,  rather;  lathe;  further;  pother;  oaths;  brother; 
thine,  blithe ;  without,  thou. 


S  as  in  Sin.— Aspirate. 

Place  the  end  of  the  tongue  back  of  the  upper  teeth,  leaving  a  slight  orifice 
through  which  the  breath  passes. 

Seek,  peatg;  sin, 
miss;  sakeface; 
send,  mess ;  sat,  lass ; 
psalm;  prance;  ser- 
vice, sup,  thus ;  Saul ; 
sot,  toss;  so,  close; 
sore;  soothe, moose; 
suit,  deduce;  sight, 
device ;  sour,  mouse ; 
soil,  choice. 


Z  as  in  Zeal.— Sub-vocal. 

Zebra,  please ;  visit,  whiz ;  zain,  blaze ;  zealous,  peasant ; 
Aztec;  does;  pause;  was;  zone,  pose;  shoes;  Zulu,  fuse;  resign, 
wise ;  resound,  allows ;  boys. 


22 


THE   FOUETH   READER. 


T  as  in  Tin.— Aspirate. 

Bring  the  tip  of  the  tongue  against  the  back  of  the  upper  teeth,  stopping 
the  breath  from  passing  outward  for  an  instant,  then  allowing  it  to  pass  in 
a  slight  puff. 

Tea^^t;  tin,  wit; 
tame,  mate;  ten, 
net ;  tai^e ;  tan,  hat ; 
tarne ;  term;  ton, 
cut ;  tawny,  aught ; 
tot,  hot ;  toll,  rote  ; 
tore;  tool,  root; 
took,  foot;  tutor, 
mute;  time,  bite ; 
tower,  shout;  toil, 
loiter. 


D  as  in  Did.— Sub-vocal. 

Deed,  feed;  din,  hid;  date,  made;  debt,  fed;  dare;  dapper, 
mad ;  dauntless ;  dance ;  dearth ;  dumb,  mud ;  daw,  laud ;  don, 
pod;  dole, load;  adore;  ado,  mood;  would;  duty,  mewed;  dine, 
piide;  doubt,  proud;  daily,  avoid. 


N  as  in  Need.— Liqmd  Sub- vocal. 

Same  position  of  the  tongue  and  lips  as  in  producing  t  and  d,  but  allowing 
the  voice  to  pass  through  the  nose. 

Knee,  mean ;  knit,  pin ;  nail,  pane ; 
nest,  pen;  knack,  fan;  prance;  nurture; 
nun,  pun;  naught,  pawn;  nod,  on;  note, 
loan ;  noose,  loon ;  nook ;  newt,  June ; 
night,  line ;  knout,  sound ;  annoy,  join. 

Oh  as  in  Chin.— Aspirate. 

This  may  be  regarded  as  a  double  consonant, 
made  up  of  t  and  sh,  and  requiring  the  positions 
of  those  letters. 

Cheap,  peach;  chin,  witch;  change;  chess,  stretch;  chap, 
catch  ;  char,  arch  ;  chance  ;  churl ;  chuck,  Dutch  ;  chaw,  de- 
bauch ;  chock,  watch  ;  chooe,  roach ;  chore ;  chew ;  chime ; 
chowchow,  vouch ;  choice. 


CONSONANTS. 


23 


J  as  in  Judge.— Sub- vocal. 

A  double  consonant,  made  up  of  d  and  zTi, 

Genius,  siege;  gin,  ridge;  jail,  page;  jet,  wedge;  jangle, 
badger;  jar;  journey;  jug,  budge ;  jaw;  job,  hodge-podge; 
jovial, gamboge;  juice,  huge;  giant,  obliging;  jounce, gouge;  join. 


L  as  in  Lip.— Liquid  Sub- vocal. 

The  front  of  the  tongue  is  raised  against  the  upper  gums,  and  the  voice  it 
allowed  to  escape  at  the  sides  of  the  tongue. 

Lea, peel;  lid, fill; 
lane,  bale ;  let,  web ; 
lair;  lack,  allow; 
lai^e;  lance;  learn; 
luck,  cull;  lawn, 
bawl;  lock,  volley; 
loan,  roll;  lore; 
loon,  cool;  look, 
pull;  lucid,  pule; 
lout,  cowl;  loyal, 
boil. 


R  as  in  Leer,  Reel.— Liquid  Sub- vocal. 

The  tip  of  the  tongue  is  reversed  or  curled  backward,  and  the  breath  escapes 
at  the  sides.  When  the  tip  of  the  tongue  is  vibrated,  it  produces  the  trill  or 
rough  r,  which  may  be  produced  before  a  vowel  heard  in  the  same  syllable, 
but  never  after  the  vowel. 

Reel,  leer;  rip, 
syrup;  rail;  rest, 
merit;  rare,  care; 
ran,  carry;  hurrah, 
mar;  raft;  turn; 
rust, purr;  wrought, 
brawl ;  rot,  horror  ; 
roar;  rood,  moor; 
right,  fire;  rout, 
sour;  roister. 


24 


THE   FOURTH   READER. 


Sh  as  in  She.— Aspirate. 

The  front  of  the  tongue  is  lifted  toward  the  roof  of  the  mouth,  so  that  the 
lower  surface  of  the  tongue  will  be  facing  the  teeth. 

Sheet,  schottish ; 
shin,  fish;  shame, 
Asia:  shed,  flash ; 
share,  "sTiag,  hash ; 
shaft;  shirr;  shun, 
rushi;  pshaw;  shot, 
slosh ;  shoal,  ocean ; 
shore ;  shoot ;  shook, 
push;  sugar;  shine; 
shower. 

Zh  as  in  Azure.— Sub- vocal. 
Leisure;  elysium;  measure;  mirage;  rouge;  usual. 


H  as  in  Hand.— Aspirate. 

The  sound  of  h  will  be  produced  by  emitting  the 
oreath  with  some  force,  with  the  mouth  in  either  of 
the  vowel  positions. 

Heel,  hit,  hale,  head,  hair,  hat,  heart, 
hasp,  heard,  hut,  hawk,  hot,  hose,  hoar, 
hoot,  hook,  hew,  high,  how,  hoyden. 


Y  as  in  Yet.— Sub- vocal. 

Raise  the  convex  arch 
of  the  tongue  toward  the 
roof  of  the  mouth,  as  in 
producing  the  vowel  e, 
but  so  closely  as  some- 
what to  obstruct  the  pass- 
age of  the  voice. 

Yield  ;  Yale,  yet ; 
yare,  yank  ;  yarn  ; 
yearn,  young;  yawl, 
yonder;  yolk, yore; 
you. 


CONSONANTS. 


25 


K  as  in  Kick.— Aspirate. 

Bring  the  back  of  the  tongue  against  the  soft 
palate. 

Keen,  speak ;  kin,  pick  ;  cake,  bake  ; 
neck ;  care  ;  cart ;  cast ;  curtain ;  cub, 
luck ;  call,  balk ;  cod,  dock ;  coal,  spoke ; 
core,  cool ;  cook,  book ;  cure,  duke ;  kind, 
pike;  cowl,  coin. 


G-  as  in  Gig.— Sub-vocal. 

Gear,  fatigue;  give,  fig;  gaze,  plague;  get,  peg;  garret,  rag 
garment;    aghast;   girl,  berg;   gust,   rug; 
gauze;    gong,  bog;   ghost;   gore;   ghoul; 
good;  guy;  gout. 

Ng  as  in  Song.— Sub- vocal. 

The  tongue  is  placed  in  the  position  of  k  or  g,  but  | 

the  pressure  is  gentle,  so  that  the  veil  of  the  palate  | 

can  fall  and  allow  the  voice  to  pass  through  the  | 

nose.  f 

Fling,  slang,  bung,  wrong. 


The  consonant  C  is  equivalent  to  s,  as  in  cease;  or  to  k,  ;is  in 
cove.  It  usually  has  the  sound  of  s  before  e,  i,  and  y,  and  the 
sound  of  k  before  a,  o,  u,  I,  r,  and  t. 

J  is  the  equivalent  of  g  soft,  as  in  judge. 

Q  has  the  sound  of  k,  as  in  quick. 

Xhas  the  sound  of  ks,  as  in  six;  or  of  gz,  as  in  exact.  It  has 
the  sound  of  ks  before  nn  aspirate  or  an  luiaccented  vowel,  as  in 
expect,  maxim  ;  and  the  sound  of  gz  before  an  accented  vowel,  as 
in  exalt. 


26 


THE   FOURTH   READER. 


IV. 

COJfSOJ^AJfT  COMBIJfATIOJfS. 
Initial  Consonant  Combinations. 


bw 

as 

in 

buoy 

gl 

as  in  glass 

si     as  in  stive 

by 

u 

a 

beauty 

gr 

ii    i 

'   great 

sm    "    ' 

'   smile 

bl 

ii 

il 

blade 

kw 

a     < 

'   queen 

sn     "    ' 

'   snow 

br 

11 

ii 

bride 

ky 

((     < 

'    cue 

sf      "    ' 

'   sphere 

py 

(C 

a 

pew 

kl 

<(     I 

'    cleaAre 

sp      "    ' 

'   spire 

pi 

11 

a 

place 

kr 

il     I 

'   crime 

St        "     ' 

'   steam 

pr 

it. 

ii 

price 

my 

11     i 

'   muse 

sk      "     ' 

'    sky 

dy 

ii 

ii 

dew 

ny 

ii     i 

'   neuter 

spl    "    ' 

'   spleen 

dw 

il 

a 

dwarf 

fy 

11     I 

'   few 

spr   "    ' 

'   spring 

dr 

ii 

a 

draw 

fl 

11     I 

'   flight 

spy  "    ' 

'   spume 

dzh 

ii 

a 

jew 

fr 

11     i 

'   fright 

str    "    ' 

'   straw 

ty 

ii 

a 

tune 

vy 

11     I 

'   view 

sty    "    ' 

'   stew 

tw 

ii 

ii 

twelve 

thw 

il     i 

'   thwart 

skr    "    ' 

'   scream 

tr 

ii 

a 

ti-y 

thy 

il     i 

'   thew 

skw  ''    ' 

'   squint 

tsh 

ii 

a 

chair 

thr 

11     I 

'    three 

sky  "    ' 

'   skew 

gw 

ii 

ii 

guelph 

sw 

11     I 

'   sway 

shr   "    ' 

'   shrine 

gy 

ii 

ii 

gewgaw 

sy 

11     i 

'   sue 

Terminal  Combinations. 

1.  Liquid  and  Single  Aspirate. 
Help,  elf,  hesilth,  else,  ieU,  Welsh,  milk; 
lamp,  nymph,  dreamt; 
nin^^,  dance,  tent, — strength,  ink; 
sharp,  turf,  earth,  purse,  hear^,  hars^,  hark. 

2.  Double  Aspirates, 
depth,  steps,  apt; 
Mth,  fifes,  left; 
broths  ; 

wasp,  post,  task; 
looks,  ad. 

3.  Liquid  and  Double  Aspirates. 

Alps,  gulped,  gulfs,  twelfth,  mgulfed; 
lamps,  stainped,  triumphs,  tempts; 
tenths,  agai?is^,  pr'mts, — lengths,  ring'st; 
harps,  warped,  serfs,  eartKs,  first,  carts,  march. 


CONSONANT   COMBINATIONS.  27 

4.  Triple  Aspirates. 
Depths,  droop' st,  adepts;  fifths,  l&ughst,  rafts; 
lookst,  facts; 
asps,  posts,  desks; 
ssitst,  patched; 
look'st,  acts. 

5.  Liquid  and  Triple  Aspirates. 
Help'st,  twelfths,  milk'st,  haWst,  filched; 
limp'st,  attemptst; 

wsi7ifst,  Pinched,—  precincts,  thinkst ; 
warp'st,  dwarf 'st,  embark'st,  bursas,  hurtst,  arched,  work'st. 

6.  Qimdrwple  Aspirates. 
Sixths; 
texts. 

7.  Liquid  and  Single  Sub-vocal. 

BuZ6,  delve,  ells,  old; 
rhomb,  gems,  fanned; 
lens,  end, — songs,  hanged; 
orb,  nerve,  bars,  cord,  iceberg ; 
prism,  frozen. 

8.  Double  Liquids. 

E/m,  stolen  ; 
arm,  mom,  curl. 

9.  Double  Sub-vocals. 

Webs,  probed ; 

caves,  saved,  bathes,  breathed; 


bnds,  lodge; 
logs,  begged. 

10.  Double  Liquids  and  Double  Aspirates. 
Overwhelm' st,  charm's^,  scorn's/. 

11.  Liquid  and  Double.  Sub-vocals. 
Bulbs,  bulbed;  wolves,  involved;  folds,  bilge; 
hinge,  lands; 
orbs,  curbed,  birds,  icebergs. 

12.  Double  Liquids  and  Single  Svh-voccds 
W,ms,  overwhelmed  ; 
curls,  arms,  formed,  horns,  burned. 


28  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

13.  Dovbh  Liquids  and  Double  Sub-voccUs. 
Worlds. 

14.  Double  Liquids  and  Double  Aspirates, 
Charm-'s^,  scorn's^. 

15.  Triple  Sub-vocals. 
Fledged. 

16.  Liquid  and  Triple  Sub-vocals. 
Bulgedj  changed,  urged. 

Mixed  Articulations. 

17.  Liquids  and  Aspirates. 
Stifl'st,  sparkl'st  ; 

soften,  token,  waken'st. 

18.  Sub-vocals  and  Aspirates. 
Robb'st,  amidst,  width,  digg'st,  rav'st,  writh'st; 
prob'dst,  hundredths,  begg'dst. 

19.  Liquids,  Sub-vocals,  and  Aspirates. 

Hobbles,  baffled,  rifles,  dazzl'd,  kindles,  sparkl'd,  mingl'd, 
rattrd,  titles,  twinkles,  scruples ; 

troubl'st,  trifl'st,  shov'lst,  kindl'st,  struggl'st,  puzzl'st,  trampl'st, 
shieldst,  revolv'st  ; 

trembl'dst,  trifl'dst,  shov'ldst,  trampl'dst,  involv'dst,  kindl'dst, 
mingl'dst,  twinkl'dst,  fondl'dst,  dazzl'dst,  rattl'dst; 

stiff^'us,  deaf  n'd,  wak'ns,  wak'n'd,  madd'n'd,  whit'ns,  rip'n'd, 
opens ; 

sendst,  wak'n'dst,  madd'n'dst,  lighten'dst,  ripen'dst,  heark- 
en'dst,  doom'dst; 

absorbst,  regard'st,  curb'dst,  hurl'dst,  charm'dst,  return'dst, 
starv'dst  ; 

strength'ns,  strength'n'd,  wrong'dst,  length en'dst. 

20.  Combinations  in  ivhich  the  same  Articulation  occurs  twice. 

Act'st,  lift'st,  nielt'st,  hurt'st,  want'st,  shout'st,  touch'd,  parch'd, 
help'dst,  bark'dst,  prompt'st,  touch'dst,  rattl'st; 

bursts,  tasks,  grasps,  mists,  bask'st,  lessenst,  nestl'st,  puzzles, 
enlist'st. 


"  Resolve  to  edge  in  a  little  reading  every  day,  if  it  is  but  a 

single  sentence.     If  you  gain  fifteen  minutes  a  day,  it  will  make 

itself  felt  at  the  end  of  the  year.'' 

Horace  Man^, 


The  Fourth  Reader. 


L—TWO  KIJ^DS  OF  FUJ\r. 

THERE  were  some  little  boys  in  a  field  flying  a  kite. 
Billy  Malstone  and  his  uncle,  Captain  Gunnell,  re- 
turning from  a  walk,  passed  through  the  field.  One  of  the 
boys  had  hold  of  the  kite,  and  the  other  had  hold  of  the 
string  ready  to  run. 

2.  "  Now,  uncle,"  said  Billy,  "  you  wait  here  and  I  '11  show 
you  some  fun." 

3.  His  uncle  was  on  a  little  eminence  at  the  time,  and 
Billy,  leaving  him  there,  ran  down  to  where  the  boys  were. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  I  '11  show  you  how  to  fly  the  kite,  so 
as  to  make  it  go  up  high." 

4.  He  then— first  looking  up  to  see  which  way  the  wind 
was  blowing — placed  the  boy  who  held  the  kite  in  such  a 
position,  that  when  the  kite  began  to  go  up,  the  wind 
should  wind  the  tail  around  him  and  entangle  it.  And 
then  he  told  the  boy  who  had  the  string  to  run  in  such  a 
direction  as  to  bring  the  string  among  the  branches  of  a 
tree. 

5.  The  boys  being  small,  and  supposing  that  Billy  knew 
more  about  kite  flying  than  they,  trusted  him  implicitly, 
and  did  just  as  he  said. 

6.  When  all  was  thus  arranged,  Billy  told  the  boys  to 
wait  until  he  gave  the  word  of  command.  Then  when  he 
felt  a  fresh  breeze  coming,  he  called  out  in  a  loud  and 
eager  voice, 

"  There !    Now,  boys !     Run,  run  ! " 

81 


32  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

7.  The  boy  who  had  the  string  ran  as  fast  as  he  could  go, 
and,  as  Billy  had  expected  and  intended,  the  kite-tail  was 
blown  around  the  boy  who  held  the  kite,  became  entangled 
in  his  legs,  and  broke  off  in  the  middle.  The  kite  went  up, 
diving  about  furiously  in  the  air,  and  entangled  itself  in  the 
trees. 

8.  Billy  at  once,  when  he  saw  that  his  trick  had  suc- 
ceeded, set  off  to  rejoin  his  uncle,  running  up  the  path  as 
fast  as  he  could  go,  and  laughing  immoderately. 

9.  "  You  managed  that  very  ingeniously,"  said  the  cap- 
tain. 

"Didn't  I?"  said  Billy. 

10.  "  You  got  some  good  fun  out  of  that,  didn't  you  ? " 
said  his  uncle. 

"Yes,"  said  Billy,  "capital  fun." 

11.  "  Now,"  said  the  captain,  "  it  is  my  turn  to  have  some 
fun.  You  sit  down  here  on  this  flat  stone,  and  see  what 
I  '11  do." 

"  What  is  it  that  you  're  going  to  do  ?  "  asked  Billy. 

12.  "  You  '11  see,"  said  his  uncle.  "  You  must  wait  here 
till  I  come  back:" 

13.  So  the  captain  went  down  the  hill. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  came  within  hearing  of 
the  boys,  "  don't  be  concerned.  I  '11  help  you  clear  your 
kite.  I  am  an  old  hand  at  knotting  and  splicing,  and  all 
other  kinds  of  rigging  work." 

14.  The  boys  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of  amaze- 
ment on  their  countenances.  They  wondered  who  that  man 
could  be,  that  was  coming  to  help  them  in  so  unexpected  a 
manner. 

15.  The  captain  took  no  notice  of  their  surprise,  but 
went  directly  and  disentangled  the  boy  from  the  remnant 
of  the  kite-tail. 

16.  "  There,"  said  he,  laying  the  kite-tail  smoothly  upon 
the  ground,  "  now  let 's  see  if  we  can  get  the  kite  down 
from  the  tree." 

17.  He  walked  along  toward  the  foot  of  the  tree,  in 


TWO   KINDS   OF   FUN.  33 

which  the  kite  was  lodged.     The  boys  followed  him,  but 
were  too  much  astonished  to  have  anything  to  say. 

18.  Bill  7  was  equally  astonished,  sitting  still  on  the  rock 
where  the  captain  had  placed  him.  He  had  expected  that 
the  captain  was  going  down  to  play  the  boys  some  other 
malicious  trick;  but  instead  of  that  he  found  him  busily 
engaged  in  helping  them  recover  their  property  and  repair 
damages. 

19.  He  began  to  wish  to  go  down  to  where  his  uncle  was, 
but  he  recollected  that  his  uncle  had  directed  him  to  re- 
main at  the  stone  until  he  returned. 

20.  Captain  Gunnell,  when  he  reached  the  foot  of  the 
tree,  asked  the  boys  if  they  thought  they  could  climb  it. 
The  boys  looked  very  seriously  up  into  the  tree,  but  did 
not  answer. 

21.  "  Well,"  said  Captain  Gunnell,  "  I  can  climb  it.  I  am 
as  good  at  climbing  as  I  am  at  knotting  and  rigging.  I 
began  to  go  up  to  the  mast  head  when  I  was  but  little  older 
than  you." 

22.  So  saying  he  lifted  up  his  arms  and  took  hold  of  a 
branch  just  above  his  head,  and  by  means  of  it  raised  him- 
self up  into  a  tree.  He  seemed  to  have  the  strength  of  a 
Hercules  in  his  arms.  He  soon  disentangled  the  kite  and 
brought  it  dow^n  to  the  boys. 

23.  While  he  was  doing  this,  Billy  called  out,  "Uncle, 
may  I  come  down  there?" 

24.  "  No,"  replied  his  uncle ;  "  you  stay  where  you  are. 
I  am  coming  up  very  soon." 

25.  He  then  went  on  aiding  the  boys  to  get  their  kite  in 
order,  and  assisted  them  in  raising  it;  and  when  it  was 
well  in  the  air,  he  went  up  the  path  and  rejoined  Billy. 

26.  As  soon  as  Captain  Gunnell  arrived  at  the  place  whero 
he  had  left  Billy,  Billy  asked  him  why  he  was  not  willing 
to  let  him  go  down  and  help  get  the  kite  down. 

27.  "  Because  I  thought  that  would  not  be  giving  you 
any  pleasure,"  said  the  captain.  "  That  is  not  your  kind 
of  fun.     Your  kind  of  fun  is  teasing  and  troubling  boys  all 


64  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

you  can ;  mine  is  helping  them,  and  giving  them  pleasure. 
I  thought  you  would  not  like  my  kind  of  fun." 

28.*  Billy  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  this,  and  so  he 
walked  along  a  little  way  in  silence.  Pretty  soon,  however, 
the  captain  began  to  talk  to  him  about  other  things,  just  as 
if  nothing  had  happened. 

Jacob  Abbott. 


11.— THE  BLUEBIRD. 

I. 

I  KNOW  the  song  that  the  bluebird  is  singing, 
Out  in  the  apple-tree  where  he  is  swinging. 
Brave  little  fellow!  the  skies  may  be  dreary, — 
Nothing  cares  he  while  his  heart  is  so  cheery. 

II. 

Hark!  how  the  music  leaps  out  from  his  throat! 
Hark!  was  there  ever  so  merry  a  note? 
Listen  a  while,  and  you  '11  hear  what  he 's  saying, 
Up  in  the  apple-tree  swinging  and  swaying. 

in. 

"Dear  little  blossoms  down  under  the  snow, 
You  must  be  weary  of  winter,  I  know ; 
Hark  while  I  sing  you  a  message  of  cheer! 
Summer  is  coming!  and  spring-time  is  here! 

IV. 

"Little  white  snow-drop!  I  pray  you  arise; 
Bright  yellow  crocus !  come,  open  your  eyes ; 
Sweet  little  violets,  hid  from  the  cold, 
Put  on  your  mantles  of  purple  and  gold; 
Daffodils !  daffodils !  say,  do  you  hear  ? — 
Summer  is  coming!  and  spring-time  is  here!" 

Emily  H.  Miller. 


AUDUBON   AND   HIS   PICTURES.  35 

m.—AUDUBOJ^  J-J^D  HIS  PICTURES. 

I  AM  going  to  tell  you  a  short  story  about  a  great  man. 
It  may  show  how  difficulties  and  annoyances  should 
be  met  and  overcome,  and  how  much  better  it  is  to  perse- 
vere and  try  again,  than  to  give  up  and  repine  when  a  mis- 
fortune happens,  or  when  things  do  not  turn  out  as  we  wish, 

2.  Some  years  ago  there  lived  in  this  country  a  great 
naturalist,  that  is,  a  man  who  studies  the  habits  and  the 
structure  of  animals  and  plants.  His  name  was  John  J. 
Audubon.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  write  a  great 
book  about  the  birds  of  America ;  and  as  he  could  draw 
and  paint  beautifully,  he  went  out  into  the  woods  and  shot 
wild  birds  of  bright  plumage,  of  which  he  made  colored 
drawings  while  the  bright  tints  on  their  feathers  were  yet 
fresh  and  gay. 

3.  He  went  on  with  this  work  for  years,  and  at  last  had 
collected  a  thousand  drawings.  Fancy  ten  hundred  draw- 
ings of  birds,  all  large  and  beautiful,  and  all  carefully 
finished.  But  by  accident  a  fire  broke  out,  and  the  whole 
collection  was  burned.     There  was  a  misfortune ! 

4.  But  what  did  Audubon  do  ?  Instead  of  repining,  he 
began  his  work  all  over  again.  He  made  fresh  drawings, 
and  worked  night  and  day  until  he  had  a  thousand  new 
ones  ready.  And  then  he  produced  a  great  book,  which  is 
considered  one  of  the  finest  in  the  world,  and  which  will 
cause  his  name  to  be  always  remembered. 

EXERCISE, 
Read  these  sentences  first  as  here  given  ;  then  again,  sup. 

PLYING   WORDS  OR   PHRASES   OF  SIMILAR    MEANING    TO   BE    FOUND   IK 
THE  FOREGOING  PIECE,  IN  PLACE  OP  THOSE  IN   ITALICS. 

1.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  brief  story  about  a  nohle  man. 

2.  Tt  may  show  how  obstacles  and  troubles  should  be  met 

3.  It  is  better  to  keep  on  and  make  another  effort. 

4.  He  shot  birds  that  had  brilliant  feathers. 

5.  Imagine  a  thousand  pictures  of  birds. 

6.  Instead  of  complaining  he  commenced  his  labor  again. 

7.  He  prepared  a  book  which  is  thought  one  of  the  best  in  the  world 


36 


THE   FOURTH    READER. 


lY. —  OUB  SHIPS. 

I. 

HURRAH  for  our  ships!  our  merchant-ships! 
Let's  raise  for  them  a  song. 
Safely  they  ghde  o'er  the  foaming  tide, 

With  timbers  stout  and  strong. 
They  to  and  fro  on  the  waters  go, 

And,  borne  on  the  rushing  breeze, 
Like  birds  they  fly,  'neath  every  sky, 
From  north  to  southern  seas! 


II. 


Hurrah  for  our  ships!  our  stout  steamships! 

That  float  in  strength  and  grace; 
By  fire  and  air  their  course  they  bear, 

As  giants  in  the  race. 


STOOP !  37 

They  bind  the  hands  of  kindred  lands 

In  close  and  friendly  grasp: 
God  grant  no  feud  by  death  and  blood 

May  e'er  unloose  the  clasp! 

III. 

Hurrah  for  them  all,  both  great  and  small, 

That  float  our  waters  free; 
May  they  safely  sail  in  calm  or  gale, 

In  home  or  foreign  sea! 
Hurrah  again  for  our  merchantmen! 

For  our  men-of-war  hurrah! 
Ring  out  the  shout  for  our  steamships  stout ! 

Hurrah  for  them  all!  hurrah! 


N.— STOOP! 

BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN,  when  a  young  man,  visited 
Dr.  Cotton  Mather.  When  the  interview  was  ended, 
the  doctor  showed  him  out  of  the  house  by  a  back  way. 
As  they  proceeded  along  a  narrow  passage,  the  doctor  said 
to  the  lad,  "Stoop!  stoop T' 

2.  Not  at  once  understanding  the  meaning  of  the  advice, 
Franklin  took  another  step,  and  brought  his  head  pretty 
sharply  against  a  beam  that  projected  over  the  passage. 

3.  "  My  lad,"  said  the  divine,  "  you  are  young,  and  the 
.world  is  before  you ;  learn  to  stoop  as  you  go  through  it. 
and  you  will  save  yourself  many  a  hard  thump." 

Yet  it  is  not  an  easy  lesson  to  learn, — the  art  of  stooping 
gracefully,  and  at  the  right  time. 

4.  When  a  young  man  stands  before  you  in  a  passion, 
fuming  and  foaming,  although  you  know  he  is  both  un- 
reasonable and  wrong,  it  is  folly  to  stand  as  straight,  and 
stamp  as  hard,  and  talk  as  loud,  as  he  does.  This  places 
two  temporary  madmen  face  to  face.  Stoop,  as  you  would 
if  a  tornado  were  passing. 

5.  It  is  no  disgrace  to  stoop  before  a  heavy  wind.  It  is 
just  as  sensible  to  echo  back  the  bellowings  of  a  mad  bull, 


38  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

as  it  is  to  answer  in  the  same  tone  the  ravings  of  a  mad- 
man. Stoop  gracefully,  and,  amid  the  pauses  of  the  wind, 
throw  in  the  "  soft  words  that  turn  away  wrath." 

6.  When  reproved  for  an  error  you  have  committed,  for 
a  wrong  you  have  done,  for  a  neglect  chargeable  against 
you,  stoop!  Do  not  try  to  justify  or  excuse  a  palpable 
fault.  This  only  increases  the  wrong.  This  only  excites 
greater  wrath.    Stoop  I 

7.  If  you  say  mildly,  "  I  know  I  was  wrong ;  forgive  me," 
you  have  stolen  away  all  your  complainant's  thunder.  1 
have  seen  this  tried  with  the  happiest  effect. 

8.  A  friend  came  to  me  once  with  a  face  black  with 
frowns,  and  with  fury  all  bottled  up  ready  for  an  explosion, 
because  I  had  failed  to  fulfil  a  promise.  I  foresaw  the 
storm,  and  took  both  his  hands  in  mine  as  he  approached, 
simply  saying,  "I  am  very  sorry;  I  forgot.  Pardon  me 
this  time."  What  could  the  man  say  ?  He  kept  the  cork 
in  the  bottle,  and  I  escaped  a  terrible  blast. 

9.  How  much  more  easily  and  pleasantly  we  should  get 
through  life,  if  we  knew  how  and  when  to  stoop ! 

10.  But  when  tempted  to  do  a  mean  thing  or  a  wrong 
thing, — when  solicited  to  evil  by  companions  or  circum- 
stances,— then  donH  stoop!  You  may  give  up  your  own 
personal  rights  if  you  will,  you  may  give  "  coat  and  cloak  " 
to  an  unjust  demand, — sometimes  even  this  is  necessary, — 
to  stoop  in  silence  to  an  injustice.  It  maj^  be  done  without 
disgrrace  or  guilt.  But  never  stoop  to  a  meanness,  to  a 
base  deed.  Never  stoop  to  pick  up  a  forbidden  object,  the 
possession  of  which  righteously  exposes  you  to  scorn  or 
censure.  

EXERCISE. 

[See  Directions  on  page  35.J 

1.  "My  hoy"  said  the  clergyman,  "learn  to  stoop." 

2.  Stoop,  as  you  would  if  a  whirlmnd  were  passing. 

3.  Do  not  answer  in  the  same  tone  the  fury  of  a  crazy  person, 

4.  Do  not  try  to  defend  or  excuse  an  evident  fault. 

5.  This  only  arouses  greater  anger. 

6.  Never  do  that  which  justly  exposes  you  to  contempt  or  hlame. 


THE   LOST   PENKNIFE.  39 


Yl.—THE  BEAUTIES  OF  SUMMEK 
I. 

THE  summer!  the  summer!  the  exquisite  time 
Of  the  red  rose's  blush  and  the  nightingale's  chime; 
The  chant  of  the  lark,  and  the  boom  of  the  bee, — 
The  season  of  brightness,  and  beauty,  and  glee ! 
It  is  here!  it  is  here!  it  is  lighting  again, 
With  sun-braided  smiles,  the  deep  heart  of  the  glen. 

n. 

It  is  touching  the  mountain  and  tingeing  the  hill, 
And  dimpling  the  face  of  the  low-laughing  rill; 
It  is  flooding  the  forest-trees  richly  with  bloom, 
And  flinging  gold  showers  in  the  lap  of  the  broom! 

m. 

I  have  heard  the  lark  warble  his  hymn  in  the  sky, 

I  have  seen  the  dew-tear  in  the  meek  daisy's  eye; 

I  have  scented  the  breath  of  the  fresh  opened  flowers, 

I  have  plucked  a  rich  garland  from  bright  hawthorn  bowere; 

My  footsteps  have  been  where  the  violet  sleeps. 

And  where  arches  of  eglantine  hang  from  the  steeps. 

IV. 
I  have  startled  the  linnet  from  thickets  of  shade. 
And  roused  the  fleet  stag  as  he  basked  in  the  glade; 
And  my  spirit  is  blithe  as  a  rivulet  clear. 
For  the  summer,  the  golden-crowned  summer,  is  here ! 


Y11.—TBE  LOST  PEJVKJV'IFE. 

EICHARD  ROSS  was  going  home  from  school  one 
day  when  he  saw  a  handsome  penknife  lying  on  the 
ground.  Now  a  knife  was  of  all  things  just  what  Richard 
wanted,  and  the  sight  of  this  one  made  his  heart  jump  for 
joy.  He  caught  it  up  eagerly,  pulled  open  the  bright 
blade,  and  feasted  his  eyes  on  the  white  pearl  handle  and 
shining  steel. 


40  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

2.  "  I  'm  a  lucky  fellow,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  then  he 
started  for  home  at  a  full  run  to  tell  his  brother  and  sister 
of  his  good  luck,  and  show  his  beautiful  knife. 

3.  "I  wonder  who  could  have  lost  it?"  said  brother 
Charles. 

"  It 's  more  than  I  know,  or  care  either,"  replied  Richard. 
"  Finding  is  keeping." 

4.  "  Suppose  you  had  lost  it  ?  "  said  grave  brother  Charles. 
"  Oh,  bother ! "  answered  Richard,  with  some  impatience. 

Charles's  suggestion  had  fallen  like  a  wet  blanket,  as  we 
say  sometimes,  on  Richard's  self-satisfaction. 

5.  "  Somebody  must  have  lost  it,"  said  Charley. 
"Maybe  it  was  Mr.  Ellis,"  suggested  sister  Marion.     "1 

saw  him  going  down  the  road  half  an  hour  ago." 

6.  "I  don't  believe  it's  his  knife,"  spoke  out  Richard, 
who  was  not  feeling  so  comfortable  as  when  he  came  in. 

"  I  would  ask  him  if  I  were  you,"  said  Charles. 

7.  Richard  made  no  reply  to  this  suggestion.  Suppose 
he  should  ask  Mr.  Ellis  if  it  was  his  knife,  and  he  should 
say  yes  ?  He  would  of  course  have  to  give  it  up.  The 
thought  was  anything  but  agreeable. 

8.  "Suppose,"  said  Charles,  looking  up  from  his  book 
that  evening  as  they  sat  round  a  table  studying  their  les- 
sons, "  you  had  lost  that  knife,  Richard  ?  " 

9.  "  Why  can't  you  let  the  knife  rest  ?  "  answered  Richard, 
half  angrily.     "  It 's  no  concern  of  yours." 

10.  "But  I  can't  help  feeling  sorry  for  the  person  who 
lost  it,"  said  Charles.  "  It 's  such  a  beauty  of  a  knife,  and^ 
maybe,  was  a  gift  or  a  keepsake ;  or,  maybe,  a  little  boy  or 
girl  bought  it  with  the  money  saved  up  for  months." 

11.  "Oh,  bother!"  exclaimed  Richard,,  using  his  favorite 
word  when  things  did  not  go  smoothly  with  him.  "  What 's 
the  use  of  supposing  all  that?  Tlie  knife  is  mine  now.  If 
I  had  not  picked  it  up,  somebody  else  would.  When  a 
thing 's  lost,  it 's  lost,  and  there 's  the  end  of  it.  If  people 
are  careless  enough  to  drop  their  things  in  the  public 
road,  they  mustn't  expect  the  finders  to  run  all  through 


THE   LOST   PENKNIFE.  41 

creation  to  look  them  up.     Finding's  keeping  the  world 
over." 

12.  "It  isn't  according  to  the  Golden  Rule,"  answered 
Charles.     "  Let  me  read  it." 

13.  "  Oh,  never  mind  about  the  Golden  Rule !  What  has 
that  to  do  with  finding  a  penknife  ?  "  returned  Richard. 

14.  "We  shall  see;"  and  Charles,  who  had  opened  a 
New  Testament  that  was  lying  upon  the  table,  read :  "  As 
ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to 
them." 

15;  "  Well,  I  don't  see  anything  about  finding  a  penknife 
there,"  said  Richard.     "  Do  you  ?  " 
•'  Yes,"  answered  Charles. 
"  Then  your  eyes  are  sharper  than  mine." 

16.  "If  you  had  lost  a  penknife,  and  Tom  Link  had 
found  it,  would  n't  you  be  glad  if  he  were  to  ask  all  around 
for  the  owner,  instead  of  keeping  the  knife  and  not  saying 
a  word  about  it?  Of  course  you  would!  And  you  would 
say  that  Tom  was  a  nice  fellow — so  unselfish  and  honor- 
able— and  all  because  he  had  done  as  he  would  be  done 
by — had  kept  the  Golden  Rule." 

17.  Richard  looked  very  sober  at  this,  for  it  brought  the 
matter  home  to  him  as  he  had  not  seen  it  before.  There 
was  something  about  this  penknife  in  the  Golden  Rule,  and 
he  was  beginning  to  see  it. 

18.  And  now  a  gradual  change  began  to  come  over  his 
feelings,  for  he  was  able  to  put  himself  in  place  of  the 
one  who  had  lost  the  knife,  and  to  feel  sorry  for  the  loss. 
He  took  it  out  of  his  pocket,  and  turned  it  over  in  his 
hands. 

19.  •'  It  is  beautiful,"  he  said,  "  and  the  person  who  lost 
it  must  feel  very  badly.  It  is  n't  my  knife,  though  I  did 
find  it,  that 's  clear." 

20.  "And  you  never  could  enjoy  it,"  said  sister  Nell, 
"  because  you  'd  be  always  thinking  how  sorry  the  person 
who  lost  it  must  be." 

21.  "Maybe    I    would.      Anyhow,   I'm   going   straight 


42  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

over  to  see  Mr.  Ellis  in  the  morning,  and  ask  him  if  he 
lost  it." 

And  he  did  so. 

22.  "  Why,  Richard ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ellis,  when  he  saw 
the  knife,  a  glow  of  surprise  and  pleasure  on  his  face. 
"Where  did  you  find  it?  It  is  one  grandma  sent  to 
Horace  for  a  birthday  present,  and  I  lost  it  on  my  way 
home.  This  is  his  birthday.  I  have  been  so  annoyed 
about  the  loss." 

23.  "  I  'm  glad  I  found  it  for  you,"  said  Richard.  And 
he  did  feel  glad  as  he  handed  Mr.  Ellis  the  beautiful  pearl- 
handled  knife. 

24.  On  the  next  day  Richard  received  from  Mr.  Ellis  a 

fine  four-bladed  pocket-knife,  worth,  for  real  service  to  a 

boy,  a  dozen  such   as  the   one  he  had  found,  and  the 

pleasant  note  that  came  with  it  made  him,  to  use  his  own 

words,  "  feel  good."    He  could  enjoy  this  knife,  because  it 

was  really  his  own.    Nobody  had  lost  it,  and  so  no  thought 

of  what  another  had  lost  could  intrude  itself  and  mar  the 

pleasure  of  its  use. 

^^^  T.  S.  Arthur. 

Ylll— THE  BEST  THAT  I  CAM. 
I. 
"  ~r  CANNOT  do  much,"  said  a  little  star, 

JL  "To  make  the  dark  world  bright! 
My  silvery  beams  cannot  struggle  far 
Through  the  folding  gloom  of  night ! 
But  I  'm  only  part  of  God's  great  plan, 
And  I'll  cheerfully  do  the  best  that  I  can!' 

II. 
"What  is  the  use,"  said  a  fleecy  cloud, 

"Of  these  few  drops  that  I  hold? 
They  will  hardly  bend  the  lily  proud, 
Though  caught  in  her  cup  of  gold ! 
Yet  I  am  part  of  God's  great  plan. 
So  my  treasures  I'll  give  as  well  as  I  can." 


THE   BEST  THAT   I   CAN.  43 

m. 

A  child  went  merrily  forth  to  play, 

But  a  thought,  like  a  silver  thread, 
Kept  winding  in  and  out  all  day, 
Through  the  happy  golden  head,— 
Mother  said,  "Darling,  do  all  you  can. 
For  you  are  a  part  of  God's  great  plan ! " 

IV. 

She  knew  no  more  than  the  glancing  star, 

Nor  the  cloud  with  its  chalice  full. 
How,  why,  and  for  what,  all  strange  things  were; 
She  was  only  a  child  at  school! 
But  thought :  "It  is  part  of  God's  great  plan, 
That  even  I  should  do  all  that  I  can!" 

V. 

So  she  helped  a  younger  child  along 

When  the  road  was  rough  to  the  feet, 
And  she  sang  from  her  heart  a  little  song 
That  we  all  thought  passing  sweet; 
And  her  father,  a  weary,  toil-worn  man. 
Said,  "I,  too,  will  do  the  best  that  I  can." 

VI. 

Our  best !    Ah,  children !  the  best  of  us 

Must  hide  our  faces  away. 
When  the  Lord  of  the  vineyard  comes  to  look 
At  our  task,  a,t  the  close  of  day ! 
But  for  strength  from  above — 'tis  the  Master's  plan— 
We'll  pray,  and  we'll  do  the  best  that  we  can. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  My  bright  rays  cannot  struggle  far. 
3-  I  will  gladly  do  the  best  that  I  can. 

3.  A  child  went  joyously  forth  to  play. 

4.  She  knew  no  more  than  the  glittering  star,  or  the  cloud  with  its  cup 

full,  why  things  were  so. 

5.  She  sang  a  song  that  we  all  thought  exceedingly  sweet. 

6.  The  Lord  comes  to  examine  our  work  at  the  end  of  day. 


44  THE  FOURTH   READER. 


IX.— THE  FIRE-FLIES. 


LITTLE  Lady  Bug  had  a  wedding,  and  all  the  bugs 
were  invited.  Many  had  a  long  journey  to  make, 
and  became  quite  friendly  with  each  other  on  the  way.  It 
was  night,  for  that  is  the  journeying  time  of  the  bugs, — just 
as  the  butterflies  make  their  flights  only  in  the  sunshine. 

2.  They  had  nearly  reached  the  bride's  house,  when,  right 
in  their  way,  lay  a  wide  swamp,  upon  which  the  Will-o'-the- 
Wisps  blazed  and  danced  back  and  forth.  The  frightened 
bugs  stopped  their  flight,  and  held  a  council,  to  discuss  how 
they  could  go  on  further. 

3.  "  We  cannot  get  over,"  said  a  cautious  May  Bug ;  "  the 
dancing  flames  would  burn  our  wings." 

"Then  we  must  fly  around  the  swamp,"  said  a  Stag- 
Beetle. 

4.  To  this  the  little  bugs  would  not  consent,  for  they 
were  already  tired,  and  were  afraid  of  the  strange  way 
around. 

5.  "  It  is  easy  for  the  Stag-Beetle,  with  his  great  wings, 
to  talk,"  said  one  of  them.  "  Besides,  we  should  lose  our 
way  if  we  turned  out  of  the  straight  road." 

6.  "  Then  let  us  choose  for  our  leader  a  Dragon-Fly  who 
knows  all  about  the  swamp,"  proposed  a  Rose  Bug.  But 
the  little  bugs  would  not  hear  of  a  roundabout  way. 

7.  After  a  long  debate  they  separated.  The  big  bugs 
tried  to  fly  around  the  swamp;  the  little  ones  remained 
hopeless  behind,  fearing  already  that  they  should  lose  the 
beautiful  wedding. 

8.  Time  flew  on.  A  Will-o'-the-Wisp  danced  mockingly 
around  them,  and  the  poor  little  party  were  in  despair. 

9.  Then  the  Fire-Flies,  who  at  that  time  were  noi  fire-flies 
at  all,  but  quite  homely  little  fellows,  said,  "  We  are  not 
afraid ;  we  will  fly  on  ahead  and  see  whether  the  flames 
will  harm  us.     You  can  wait  on  the  edge  of  the  swamp." 

10.  This  was  agreed  to ;  and  the  little  gray  bugs  whirled 


THE    FIEE-FLIES. 


45 


cautiously  around  the  crazy,  fiery  fellows.  It  is  true,  the 
first  time  one  skipped  toward  them  they  shrunk  back  in 
fright;  and  the  spectators  on  the  bank  were  no  doubt 
triumphing  over  their  defeat.  But  that  just  spurred  them 
to  a  new  trial. 

11.  They  had  already  surrounded  a  Will-o '-the- Wisp ; 
and  as  he,  in  order  to  scare  them,  rushed  back  and  forth 
between  the  largest  crowds,  they  exulted  aloud ;  for  although 
they  had  to  shut  their  dazzled  eyes,  not  one  of  them  was 
harmed. 

12.  Now  they  pursued  their  stubborn  enemy,  who  soon 
was  so  beset  that  he  had  to  give  himself  up,  and  was 
dragged  by  his  captors  in  triumph  to  the  bank. 

13.  The  other  bugs  now  wished  to  take  part  in  the  vic- 
tory, and  claimed  the  captive  as  their  own ;  but  the  little 
victors  knew  how  to  maintain  their  rights,  as  they  had 
known  how  to  gain  them  in  battle. 

14.  The  prisoner  was  laid  upon  the  trunk  of  an  old  tree, 
and  with  a  blade  of  grass,  that  had  little  sharp  teeth  on  its 
edge  like  a  saw,  was  cut  up  and  divided,  so  that  each  of  the 
little  heroes  had  his  sparkling  bit  of  Will-o'-the-Wisp  to 
hide  under  his  wings. 

15.  All  now  proceeded  on  their  journey  across  the  swamp 
undisturbed  by  the  Will-o'-the- Wisps,  who  were  frightened 
by  the  fate  of  their  brother,  and  readily  made  way  for  the 
whole  company. 

16.  To  the  great  joy  of  the  little  bugs,  they  soon  reached 
the  house  of  the  bride,  and  they  had  been  a  long  time 
enjoying  themselves,  when  at  last  the  large  bugs  arrived, 
exhausted  by  their  long  flight,  and  scolding  the  Dragon- 
Fly  who  had  maliciously  taken  them  a  wrong  way  and 
then  wickedly  left  them. 

17.  When  the  large  bugs  asked  some  of  the  little  ones 
how  they  had  got  across  the  burning  swamp,  they  mumbled 
unintelligible  words,  nodding  slyly  with  their  feelers;  for 
the  Fire-Flies  had  charged  them  not  yet  to  tell  of  theii 
conquest. 


46  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

18.  Even  bugs  are  more  willing  to  conceal  the  glory  than 
the  shame  of  others,  and,  in  admitting  the  courage  of  the 
Fire-Flies,  the  other  little  bugs  would  at  the  same  time 
have  had  to  confess  their  own  indecision. 

19.  The  day  passed  by,  and  the  wedding  evening  with 
its  festivity  began.  The  large  bugs  had  rested  themselves, 
and  had  already  begun  to  put  on  airs.  All  the  bugs  dressed 
up.  Only  the  little  Fire-Flies,  in  the  gray  dress,  sat  modestly 
in  the  grass. 

20.  A  Gold  Bug  who  had  spent  a  long  time  at  his  toilet 
walked  past  them,  feeling  very  vain  of  his  green  and  gold 
garments.  "You  poor  little  bugs,"  said  he,  sneeringly, 
"what  good  does  it  do  you  to  dress  up?  In  your  dusty 
mantles  you  would  never  play  a  bright  part,  else  I  would 
offer  you  some  gold  paint  that  I  left  on  the  blade  of  grass 
beside  the  dew-drop  which  I  used  for  a  mirror." 

21.  "We  thank  you,"  spoke  up  a  pert  little  Fire-Fly; 
"  for  though  we  have  no  gold  dress,  still  we  carry  a  brilliant 
jewel  that  you  lack." 

22.  At  these  words  all  the  Fire-Flies  lifted  their  wings. 
The  light  of  the  little  flame  streamed  out;  and  as  they 
went  whirling  back  and  forth  through  the  wedding  com- 
pany, the  astonishment  and  wonder  had  no  end. 

23.  The  Fire-Flies  remained  the  heroes  of  the  festival; 
and  when  it  was  over.  Lady  Bug,  the  blushing  bride,  let 
them  go  before  to  light  the  way. 

24.  That  was  long  ago.  But  the  Fire-Flies  have  kept 
their  little  flames ;  and  if  these  seem  sometimes  to  be  going 
out,  they  just  catch  a  Will-o'-the-Wisp  and  divide  it  as  in 
former  days. 

EXERCISE, 

1.  Night  is  the  traveling  time  of  the  bugs. 

2.  The  scared  bugs  stopped  their  Jlying,  and  held  a  meeting. 

3.  After  a  long  discussion  they  parted. 

4.  The  little  ones  staid  behind  in  despair. 
6.  Now  they  chased  their  obstinate  enemy. 

6.  The  large  bugs  came,  tired  out  by  their  long  flight. 


FIELD   LILIES.  47 

^.— FIELD  LILIES. 
I. 

LILY  bells !  lily  bells !  swinging  and  ringing 
Sweet  golden  bells  on  the  still  summer  air, 
Are  ye  calling  the  birds  to  their  matins  of  singing, 
Summoning  Nature  to  worship  and  prayer? 

II. 
Lily  bells!  lily  bells!  daintily  swaying, 

Poising  your  petals  like  butterflies'  wings, 
As  the  breeze  murmurs  round  you,  pray  what  is  he  saying: 

Is  he  whispering  love-words  and  soft,  pretty  things  ? 

III. 
Lily  bells!  lily  bells!  'mid  the  long  grasses 

Gleaming  like  sunbeams  in  still  shady  bower. 
Have  you  stolen  your  gold  from  the  sun  as  he  passes? 

Are  ye  guarding  your  treasure  in  bud  and  in  flower? 

IV. 

Lily  bells!  lily  bells!  bowing  and  bending, 
Are  ye  nodding  a  welcome  to  me  as  I  go? 

Do  ye  know  that  my  heart  bears  a  love  never-ending 
For  bright  golden  lily-bells  all  in  a  row? 

V. 

Lily  bells!  lily  bells!  down  in  the  meadows. 
As  I  see  your  fair  forms  'mid  the  mosses  and  brake, 

My  heart  wanders  back  to  the  past,  with  its  shadows, 
To  Christ,  and  the  wise,  loving  words  that  he  spake. 

VI. 

*'  Consider  the  lilies  " — yes,  this  was  his  teaching — 
"The  modest  field-lilies  that  toil  not  nor  spin, 

Yet  even  to  them  is  my  loving  care  reaching. 
My  heart  takes  the  feeblest  and  lowliest  in.'* 

VII. 

Lily  bells!  lily  bells!  waving  and  swinging, 

If  Jesus,  my  Master,  can  watch  over  you, 
I  '11  go  to  him  daily,  with  gladness  and  singing, 

Believing  he'll  love  me  and  care  for  me  too. 


48  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

vin. 
Lily  bells!  lily  bells!  bending  and  swaying, 

Ring  out  your  sweet  peals  on  the  still  summer  air*, 
I  would  ye  might  lure  all  to  trusting  and  praying, 

And  teach  them  sweet  lessons  of  God's  loving  care. 


HI.— THE  MERRY  AUTUMM  DAYS. 

DID  you  ever  see  the  chestnut  trees?  They  grow  in 
our  woods,  and  on  the  shores  of  some  ponds.  In  the 
spring  they  are  covered  with  long  yellowish  blossoms ;  and 
all  through  the  hot  summer  those  blossoms  are  at  work 
turning  into  the  chestnuts,  wrapped  safely  in  round,  thorny 
balls,  which  will  prick  your  fingers  sadly  if  you  don't  take 
care. 

2.  But  when  the  frost  of  the  autumn  nights  comes,  it 
cracks  open  the  prickly  ball,  and  shows  a  shining  brown 
nut  inside.  Then,  if  we  are  careful,  we  may  pull  off  the 
covering  and  take  out  the  nut.  Sometimes,  indeed,  there 
are  two,  three  or  four  nuts  in  one  shell. 

3.  Now,  in  the  autumn  it  is  merry  sport  to  gather  these 
chestnuts  and  store  them  away;  some  to  be  eaten,  boiled 
or  roasted,  by  the  bright  fire  in  the  cold  winter  days  that 
are  coming ;  and  some  to  be  nicely  packed  in  great  bags, 
and  carried  on  the  donkey  down  to  the  town  and  be  sold. 

4.  So  when  father  says  one  night  at  supper-time,  "  It  is 
-growing  cold ;  I  think  there  will  be  a  frost  to-night,"  Mabel 
knows  very  well  what  to  do ;  and  she  dances  away  right 
early  in  the  evening  to  her  little  bed.  She  falls  asleep  to 
dream  about  the  chestnut-wood,  and  the  squirrels,  and  the 
little  brook  that  leaps  and  springs  from  rock  to  rock,  down 
under  the  tall,  dark  trees. 

5.  She  has  gone  to  bed  early  that  she  may  wake  with  the 
first  daylight,  and  she  is  out  of  bed  in  a  minute  when  she 
hears  her  father's  cheerful  call  in  the  morning:  "Come, 
children,  it  is  time  to  be  off." 


THE   MERRY   AUTUMN   DA^S. 


49 


6.  Their  dinner  is  packed  in  a  large  basket.  The  donkey 
stands  ready  before  the  door,  with  great  empty  bags  hang- 
ing at  each  side ;  and  they  go  merrily  over  the  crisp  frost 
to  the  chestnut  trees. 

7.  How  the  frost  has  opened  the  burrs !  He  has  done 
more  than  half  their  work  for  them  already.     How  they 


laugh,  and  sing,  and  shout  to  each  other,  as  they  gather 
the  smooth  brown  nuts,  filling  their  baskets  and  running 
to  pour  them  into  the  great  bags ! 

8.  The  sun  looks  down  upon  tliem  through  the  yellow 
leaves,  and  the  rocks  give  them  mossy  seats;  while  here 
and  there  comes  a  bird  or  a  squirrel  to  see  what  these 
strange  people  are  doing  in  the  wood. 

9.  Mabel  declares  that  the  chestnut  days  are  the  best  in 


60  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

the  year.     Perhaps  she  is  right.    I  am  sure  I  should  enjoy 
them ;  should  n't  you  ? 

10.  She  really  helps,  although  she  is  but  a  little  girl,  and 
her  father  says  at  night  that  his  little  Mabel  is  a  dear,  good 
child.     It  makes  her  very  happy. 

11.  She  thinks  of  what  he  has  said,  while  she  undresses 
at  night,  and  she  goes  peacefully  to  sleep,  to  dream  again 
of  the  merry  autumn  days. 


XIL—TRE  OPEJ^  BOOB. 
I. 

WITHIN  a  town  of  Holland  once 
A  widow  .dwelt,  't  is  said, 
So  poor,  alas !  her  children  asked 

One  night  in  vain,  for  bread. 
But  this  poor  woman  loved  the  Lord, 

And  knew  that  he  was  good; 
So,  with  her  little  ones  around. 
She  prayed  to  him  for  food. 

n. 
When  prayer  was  done,  her  eldest  child- 

A  boy  of  eight  years  old — 
Said  softly,  "  In  the  Holy  Book, 

Dear  mother,  we  are  told 
How  God,  with  food  by  ravens  brought, 

Supplied  the  prophet's  need." 
"  Yes,"  answered  she,  "  but  that,  my  son, 

Was  long  ago,  indeed." 

"  But,  mother,  God  may  do  again 

What  he  has  done  before; 
And  so,  to  let  the  birds  fly  in, 

I  will  unclose  the  door." 
Then  little  Dirk,  in  simple  faith. 

Threw  ope  the  door  full  wide, 
So  that  the  radiance  of  their  lamp 

Fell  on  the  path  outside. 


THE  OPEN   DOOR.  61 

IV. 

Ere  long  the  burgomaster  passed, 

And,  noticing  the  light, 
Paused  to  inquire  why  the  door 

Was  open  so  at  night. 
"  My  little  Dirk  has  done  it,  sir," 

The  widow,  smiling,  said, 
"That  ravens  might  fly  in  to  bring 

My  hungry  children  bread." 

V. 

"Indeed!"  the  burgomaster  cried, 

"  Then  here 's  a  raven,  lad ; 
Come  to  my  home,  and  you  shall  see 

Where  bread  may  soon  be  had." 
Along  the  street  to  his  own  house 

He  quickly  led  the  boy, 
And  sent  him  back  with  food  that  filled 

His  humble  home  with  joy. 

VI. 

The  supper  ended,  little  Dirk 

Went  to  the  open  door. 
Looked  up,  said,  "  Many  thanks,  good  Lord ;" 

Then  shut  it  fast  once  more. 
For,  though  no  bird  had  entered  in. 

He  knew  that  God  on  high 
Had  hearkened  to  his  mother's  prayer, 

And  sent  this  full  supply. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  A  widow  lived  in  a  town  of  Holland. 

2.  Her  little  ones  asked  without  avail  for  bread. 

3.  The  light  of  their  lamp  fell  on  the  road. 

4.  Soon  the  chief  magistrate  or  mayor  passed. 

5.  He  stopped  to  ask  why  the  door  was  not  shut. 

6.  He  sent  the  boy  back  with  something  to  eat. 

7.  He  knew  that  his  heavenly  Father  has  listened  to  his  mother's 

petition. 


52  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

XIII.— r^^  BAD  HAT, 

Mr.  Lovell  is  counting  money  at  an  open  drawer,  when  his  little 
daughter  Anna  enters,  with  a  hat  in  her  hand. 

Mr.  Lovell  (shutting  the  drawer).  And  what  do  you  come 
for,  my  little  girl  ? 

Anna  (hesitatingly).  Father,  I  've  come  to  talk  to  you 
about  your  hat. 

Mr.  Lovell.    Is  n't  the  hat  well  enough  ? 

Anna.    Oh  dear,  father !  ju^  look  at  it ! 

Mr.  Lovell.    But  you  have  not  brushed  it,  Anna. 

Anna.  I  've  brushed  it  and  brushed  it — tiU  there  ^s  no 
brush  to  it ! 

Mr.  Lovell.  Well,  well,  it  is  n't  gay ;  it  is  n't  a  shining 
beaver  any  more,  I  'm  sorry  to  say !  But  it  must  do  for 
the  present,  my  love. 

Anna.     But  everybody  say^ij>looks*so  shabby ! 

Mr.  Lovell.  Is  that  so?  Then,  how  are  we  to  make  it 
last  six  months  longer  becomes  a  serious  question.  But 
who  is  everybody  ? 

Anna.     Why,  Philip  Marston. 

Mr.  Lovell.     He  is  everybody,  is  he  ? 

Anna.  He  for  one.  He  says  he  should  think  I  would 
be  ashamed  to  walk  out  with  such  a  hat. 

Mr.  Lovell.    And  are  you  ashamed  ? 

Anna.  Why — no — but — I  do  wish  you  would  get  a  new 
one !     Do,  dear  father ! 

Mr.  Lovell.     But  I  have  no  money  to  buy  one. 

Anna.  But  you  have  money !  You  were  counting  some 
just  now ! 

Mr.  Lovell.  But  suppose  I  want  the  money  for  otlier 
things  ? 

Anna.  Oh,  but  nothing  shows  so  much  as  a  hat !  Philip 
says — 

Mr.  Lovell.    Well,  what  does  he  say? 

Anna.  That  people  call  you  stingy ;  they  think  you  are 
mean,  and  a  miser ; — ar  -1  oh,  it  makes  me  cry  to  hear  him  1 


THE   BAD   HAT.  63 

Mr.  Lovell.  Come  here,  little  Anna.  What  is  mean  and 
miserly,  my  child  ? — do  you  know  ? 

Anna.  Something  horrid,  I  am  sure;  and  what  every- 
body hates, — and  what  you  are  not,  I  know,  for  everybody 
loves  you. 

Mr.  Lovell.  That 's  good  of  everybody,  to  love  a  man  who 
wears  a  shabby  hat !  Mean  and  miserly,  am  I  ?  Now,  a 
mean  person,  my  child,  is  one  who  saves  his  money  when 
he  ought  to  be  free  and  generous  with  it ;  a  miser  hoards 
for  the  mere  sake  of  hoarding.     Do  you  understand  me  ? 

Anna.  Oh  yes!  and  I  know  you  do  not  save  for  your- 
self, and  so  you  are  not  mean  and  miserly ! 

Mr.  Lovell.  But  we  are  poor,  Anna ;  and  it  is  hard  for 
the  poor  to  behave  liberally  and  generously,  as  the  rich  can 
and  should  do ;  it  is  very  hard,  too,  for  them  to  avoid  false 
shame.  But  we  must  be  true  to  ourselves  and  deal  honor- 
ably with  the  world,  and  we  must  rise  above  false  shame. 
And  now  I  will  tell  you  why  I  cannot  for  a  long  time  have 
a  new  hat. 

Anna.  Oh,  father,  I  am  so  glad  I  came  to  talk  with  you ! 
Do  tell  me  all  about  it  I 

Mr.  Lovell.  There  is  a  man  in  this  town  who  has  become 
suddenly  very  poor  through  no  fault  of  his  own — poorer 
than  we  are,  for  his  children  are  crying  for  bread.  He  is  a 
high-minded,  upright  man ;  and  once,  when  my  father  was 
in  difficulties  and  needed  a  friend,  he  was  his  friend,  and 
lent  him  money.  Now  he  needs  a  friend,  and  I  must  lend 
him  money.  What  I  have  he  shall  have.  It  would  cost 
me  five  dollars  to  buy  a  new  hat;  but  he  needs  the  five 
dollars  more  than  I  need  the  hat,  for  it  is  to  buy  bread  for 
his  children.  To  help  him  I  can  bear  to  wear  a  shabby 
hat  a  little  longer,  and  to  be  called  mean  and  miserly  by 
people  who  do  not  know  me.  Shall  you  be  ashamed  to 
walk  with  me  now,  Anna  ? 

Anna.  Ashamed !  0  father !  This  dear  old  hat !  I  love 
it  better  than  I  can  ever  love  a  new  one ;  and  oh,  I  am  so 
proud  of  you,  dear  father ! 


54  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

XIY.— COURAGE,  BOY,  COURAGE! 
I. 

YES,  courage,  boy,  courage !  and  press  on  thy  way ; 
There  is  nothing  to  harm  thee,  nothing  to  fear : 
Do  all  which  Truth  bids  thee,  and  do  it  to-day ; 
Hold  on  to  thy  purpose,  do  right,  persevere ! 

n. 
Though  waves  of  temptation  in  anger  may  roll. 

And  storm-cloud  on  storm-cloud  hang  dark  in  the  sky 
Still  courage,  boy,  courage !  there 's  strength  in  thy  soul ; 

Believing  and  doing  bring  help  from  on  high. 

m. 

Let  joy  light  thy  cheek,  then,  and  hope  gild  thy  brow; 

Ne'er  parley  with  wrong,  nor  ill  stay  to  borrow ; 
Let  thy  object  be  Truth,  and  thy  watchword  be  Now! 

Make  sure  of  to-day,  and  trust  God  for  to-morrow. 

IV. 

By  deeds  of  the  mighty,  who  struggled  and  bled, 

Be  incited  to  action,  and  manfully  fight : 
Good  is  worth  doing,  boy !  and,  living  or  dead. 

That  good  shall  reward  thee  with  honor  and  might. 

V. 
rhen  courage,  boy,  courage !  there 's  light  in  the  sky : 

Be  humble,  be  active,  be  honest,  be  true  ; 
And  though  hosts  may  confront,  and  though  foes  may  decry, 

"I've  conquered!"  at  last  shall  be  shouted  by  you. 


XY.—THE  MAGPIE. 

THE  magpie  is  a  sort  of  second-cousin  to  the  crow. 
Like  that  bird,  he  is  a  noisy,  mischievous  creature, 
full  of  cunning  tricks,  and  somewhat  inclined  to  pilfering. 
The  crow,  however,  dresses  in  a  full  suit  of  shiny  black, 


THE   MAGPIE.  65 

while  the  magpie  is  more  showily  clad.  His  breast  and 
parts  of  his  wings  are  as  white  as  snow,  while  the  feathers 
on  his  back  look  like  black  velvet.  All  the  rest  of  his 
plumage  is  blue,  so  that,  when  sleek  and  clean,  as  he  is 
when  not  caged  up,  our  chattering  friend  looks  quite  pretty, 
though,  at  the  same  time,  a  little  odd. 

2.  There  are  a  great  many  magpies  in  England,  France, 
and  other  European  countries.  They  are  also  found  on  our 
own  Western  prairies  beyond  the  Mississippi;  but  east  of 
that  great  river  they  are  rarely  seen. 

3.  The  magpie  has  a  queer  habit  of  carrying  off  and 
hiding  any  bright  and  glittering  thing  he  may  chance  to 
see  as  he  goes  hopping  and  skipping  about.  I  have  read 
many  stories  about  his  thievish  pranks,  most  of  them 
comical  enough,  but  there  is  also  a  very  sad  one,  which  has 
been  made  use  of  by  a  great  many  story-writers  and  poets. 

4.  It  is  about  a  poor  servant-girl,  named  Ninette,  who 
was  charged  with  stealing  a  valuable  bracelet  from  her 
mistress,  the  wife  of  a  rich  count  who  lived  in  Florence, 
Italy.  Ninette  was  tried,  and,  as  the  bracelet  could  not  be 
found,  it  was  decided  that  she  must  have  stolen  it.  She 
was  accordingly  sentenced  to  be  put  to  death,  such  being 
the  punishment  in  those  days  for  stealing. 

5.  Some  time  afterwards  a  flash  of  lightning  shattered  to 
pieces  a  tall  pillar  that  stood  in  one  of  the  public  squares 
of  the  city.  On  the  top  of  this  pillar  was  a  statue  of  Jus- 
tice, carrying  a  sword  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  a  pair 
Df  gilt  scales  like  those  you  may  see  on  the  counters  in 
irug-stores. 

6.  When  the  people  went  to  look  among  the  fragments 
of  the  broken  pillar  they  found  in  one  of  these  scales  a 
magpie's  nest,  and  in  this  nest  was  the  missing  bracelet  for 
stealing  which  Ninette  had  been  killed.  Poor  girl !  Every- 
body now  knew^  that  she  was  innocent.  And  this  is  the 
story  of  the  "Maid  and  the  Magpie,"  which  has  become 
famous  all  over  the  world. 

7.  The  magpie  is  as  brave  as  he  is  mischievous,  and  will 


56  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

attack  even  dogs  and  foxes  when  he  thinks  they  are  too 
close  to  his  nest.  He  flies  at  them  in  the  greatest  fury^ 
trying  to  pick  out  their  eyes,  and  at  the  same  time  keeps 
up  a  constant  chatter,  thus  caUing  upon  all  his  friends  to 
come  and  help  him  drive  off  the  intruder. 

8.  These  birds  are  very  busy  workers  with  all  their  chat- 
tering. They  put  a  great  deal  of  work  on  their  nests, 
which  are  something  wonderful  in  their  way.  They  are 
generally  built  in  the  tops  of  high  trees,  though  often  a 
mere  bush  is  chosen  as  a  good  place  for  one.  The  outside 
is  made  of  thorny  sticks  woven  together  very  firmly.  In- 
side they  are  plastered  with  mud  and  lined  with  dry  grass 
and  fibers  of  plants.  The  top  is  rounded  over  like  a  dome, 
and  an  opening  is  left  as  a  door  on  one  side.  Though  the 
inside  of  the  nest  is  not  more  than  six  inches  across,  it  is 
sometimes  more  than  two  feet  across  on  the  outside.  To 
build  such  a  nest  takes  a  pair  of  magpies  nearly  two 
months. 

9.  An  English  naturalist  once  found  in  a  gooseberry- 
bush  a  magpie's  nest  which,  as  it  was  in  danger  of  attack 
from  cats,  the  birds  had  fortified  with  a  complete  barricade 
of  thorns  nearly  a  foot  thick,  and  so  strong  that  it  would 
have  taken  a  man  with  a  hatchet  to  force  a  way  into  it. 

10.  The  magpie  readily  learns  to  repeat  a  few  words, 
"  Mag "  being  the  one  it  seems  to  be  most  fond  of.  I  have 
read  of  a  magpie  which  belonged  to  the  keeper  of  a  toll- 
house, and  from  often  hearing  travelers  make  use  of  them 
had  learned  to  speak  the  words  "Gate  ahoy!"  The  bird 
had  noticed,  too,  that  when  any  one  shouted  these  words 
the  keeper's  wife  went  out  to  open  the  gate.  Putting  these 
things  together  in  his  cunning  little  head,  the  bird  made 
up  a  plan  for  plundering  the  good  woman. 

11.  On  certain  days  she  got  ready  the  dinner  in  a  kitchen 
from  which  the  toll-gate  could  not  be  seen,  but  the  travel- 
ers* calls  would  oblige  her  to  leave  all  her  delicate  little 
bits  on  the  table  for  a  few  minutes  while  she  opened  the 
gate.    Now  the  magpie  wanted  some  of  these  morsels,  and 


GOOD   LIFE,   LONG   LIFE.  57 

one  day  when  his  mistress  was  getting  dinner,  the  well- 
known  cry,  "Gate  ahoy!"  called  her  out  of  the  kitchen 
To  the  astonishment  of  the  good  woman  she  saw  no  travel- 
er, nor  was  there  any  mischievous  boy  in  sight  who  might 
have  played  the  trick.  On  going  back  to  the  kitchen  she 
saw  the  magpie  pecking  with  might  and  main  at  her 
eatables. 

12.  The  thief  soon  made  his  escape  from  the  angry 
woman,  who  did  not  at  first  suspect  the  bird  of  playing 
any  trick  upon  her ;  but  when  she  had  been  called  out  two 
or  three  times  in  the  same  way,  the  cunning  magpie's 
scheme  became  plain.  The  trick  amused  her  so  that  she 
could  not  find  it  in  her  heart  to  hurt  the  bird,  but  always 
afterwards  she  took  good  care  that  he  should  not  disturb 
her  dinner. 


XVL—GOOn  LIFE,  LOXG  LIFE. 
I. 

HE  liveth  long  who  liveth  well; 
All  else  is  life  but  flung  away : 
He  liveth  longest  who  can  tell 

Of  true  things  truly  done  each  day. 

II. 

Then  fill  each  hour  with  what  will  last; 

Buy  up  the  moments  as  they  go: 
The  life  above,  when  this  is  past, 

Is  the  ripe  fruit  of  life  below. 

III. 

Sow  love,  and  taste  its  fruitage  pure ; 

Sow  peace,  and  reap  its  harvest  bright; 
Sow  sunbeams  on  the  rock  and  moor. 

And  find  a  harvest-home  of  light. 

H.   BONAB. 


68  THE   FOUETH   READEB. 


XVII.— THE  TWO  APPBEMTICES. 

r^piWO  boys  were  apprentices  in  a  carpenter's  shop.  One 
I  determined  to  make  himself  a  thorough  workman; 
the  other  ''didn't  care."  One  read  and  studied,  and  got 
books  that  would  help  him  to  understand  the  principles  of 
his  trade.  He  spent  his  evenings  at  home,  reading.  His 
companion  liked  to  go  with  other  boys  to  have  "a  good 
•game."  "Come,"  he  often  said  to  his  shopmate,  "leave 
your  old  books ;  come  with  us.  What 's  the  use  of  all  thiA 
reading  ?  " 

2.  "  If  I  waste  my  golden  moments,"  answered  the  boy, 
"  I  shall  lose  what  I  can  never  make  up." 

3.  While  the  boys  were  still  apprentices  an  offer  of  two 
thousand  dollars  appeared  in  the  newspapers  for  the  best 
plan  for  a  state-house,  to  be  built  in  one  of  the  Eastern 
States.  The  studious  boy  determined  to  try  for  it.  After 
a  careful  study  he  drew  out  his  plans  and  sent  them  to  the 
committee. 

4.  In  about  a  week  afterwards  a  gentleman  arrived  at 
the  carpenter's  shop,  and  inquired  if  an  architect  by  the 
name  of  Washington  Wilberforce  worked  there. 

5.  "No,"  said  the  carpenter,  "no  architect;  but  I  have 
an  apprentice  by  that  name." 

6.  "  I  should  like  to  see  him,"  said  the  gentleman. 

7.  The  young  man  was  summoned,  and  informed  that 
his  plan  had  been  accepted,  and  that  the  two  thousand 
dollars  were  his.  The  gentleman  then  said  that  the  boy 
must  put  up  the  building ;  and  his  employer  was  so  proud 
of  his  success  that  he  willingly  gave  him  his  time  and  let 
him  go. 

8.  The  studious  young  carpenter  became  one  of  the  first 
architects  in  the  country.  He  made  a  fortune,  and  stood 
high  in  the  estimation  of  everybody;  while  his  fellow- 
apprentice  could  hardly  earn  food  for  himself  and  family 
by  his  daily  labor. 


THE   LIFE-BOAT. 


59 


XVIIL— r^^  LIFE-BOAT. 


MAN  the  life-boat!  man  the  Hfe-boat! 
Hearts  of  oak,  your  succor  lend ! 
See  the  shattered  vessel  stagger; 
Quick,  oh,  quick,  assistance  send ! 


n. 


See,  they  launch  the  gallant  life-boat ! 

See,  they  ply  the  lusty  oar ! 
"Round  them  rage  the  foamy  breakers, 

Cheers  attend  them  from  the  shore. 


60  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

ni. 

Now  the  fragile  bark  is  hanging 
On  the  billows'  giddy  height; 

Now  to  fearful  depths  descending, 
While  we  sicken  at  the  sight. 

IV. 

Courage!  courage! — she's  in  safety; 

For  again  her  buoyant  form 
Mounts  and  mocks  the  dashing  surges, 

Like  the  petrel  in  the  storm. 

V. 

With  her  precious  cargo  freighted, 
Now  the  life-boat  nears  the  shore; 

Parents,  brethren,  friends,  embracing 
Those  they  thought  to  see  no  more. 

VI. 

Blessings  on  the  dauntless  spirits, 
Dangers  thus  who  nobly  brave; 

Ready  life  and  limb  to  venture, 
So  they  may  a  brother  save! 


XIX..— THE  LAUJfCH. 

I  ARRIVED  on  the  ground  just  in  season.  A  crowd 
had  gathered  in  the  yard,  and  another  crowd  was 
standing  or  sitting  on  the  wharves  or  timbers  of  a  neigh- 
boring yard,  waiting  to  see  the  show.  In  ten  minutes  she 
would  go  off;  and  in  the  meanwhile  I  looked  sharply 
about  to  see  how  the  thing  was  done. 

2.  There  was  a  track  built  of  timbers — a  sort  of  huge 
wooden  railroad — running  from  the  water  all  along  under 
the  ship's  bottom,  on  each  side  of  her  keel.  It  had  a  slope 
of  nearly  an  inch  to  a  foot,  just  enough  to  make  her  slide 
off  handsomely. 

3.  She  did  not  rest  directly  on  these  ways,  understand. 
Built  up  all  about  her  was  a  curious  sort  of  frame,  called 


THE   LAUNCH.  61 

a  cradle,  the  bottom  timbers  of  which  are  called  bilgeways. 
These  were  the  runners  on  which  she  was  to  take  a  ride 
down  the  track. 

4.  She  was  blocked  up  by  timbers  and  planks  between 
her  bottom  and  the  bilgeways;  and  these  rested  on  the 
ways,  which  had  been  well  greased  with  tallow,  and  after- 
wards, when  the  tallow  was  cold,  slushed  with  oil  and  soft- 
soap.  The  under-sides  of  the  bilgeways  had  also  been 
greased.  To  prevent  her  froni  running  off  the  track,  strong 
hard- wood  "  ribbons  "  were  fastened  to  the  top  of  the  ways 
on  the  outer  edge,  and  well  supported  by  slanting  props 
set  in  the  firm  ground. 

5.  Her  entire  weight  did  not  rest  on  the  cradle  as  yet, 
otherwise  there  would  have  been  nothing  to  prevent  her 
from  sliding  down  the  slippery  track.  The  piles  of  blocks 
on  which  she  had  been  built  were  still  under  her  keel,  and 
a  few  shores  on  her  sides. 

6.  While  I  was  looking  on,  the  shores  were  taken  away, 
and  the  word  came  to  launch,  when  a  number  of  men  on 
each  side,  who  stood  ready  with  axes,  commenced  splitting 
out  the  top  block  of  each  pile. 

7.  I  got  a  good  position  at  a  safe  distance  on  a  pile  of 
lumber  near  the  saw-mill.  The  crowd  was  perfectly  silent, 
waiting  to  see  the  huge  thing  start ;  and  there  was  scarcely 
any  noise  but  the  sound  of  axes,  and  the  puffing  of  the 
steam-tugs  lying  off  the  yard  waiting  to  catch  her  as  soon 
as  she  was  launched. 

8.  "  I  hope  the  tugs  will  do  better  than  they  did  with  the 
last  ship  I  saw  go  off,"  said  a  man  who  stood  on  the  boards 
beside  me.  "  She  was  a  very  large  ship ;  the  cables  parted 
they  undertook  to  hold  her  with ;  she  got  away,  and  ran 
clear  across  the  stream,  butted  against  the  navy-yard  wall, 
poked  her  nose  into  it  fifteen  feet,  and  there  stuck." 

9.  As  he  had  broken  the  silence,  I  asked,  ''  Do  they 
always  launch  stern  foremost  ?  " 

"  Oftener  than  any  other  way,"  he  said.  "  Sometimes 
they  launch  bow  foremost.     Very  large  vessels  in  narrow 


62  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

streams  have  to  be  launched  sideways.    The  Great  Eastern 
was  launched  sideways  in  the  Thames." 

10.  The  men  had  begun  splitting  out  the  blocks  nearesi; 
the  water.  I  supposed  they  would  have  to  split  out  the 
top  block  on  the  last  pile  under  the  bow  before  she  would 
start.  But  half  a  dozen  piles  still  remained  untouched, 
when  suddenly  the  crowds  on  each  side  shouted,  "  She  is 
going ! " 

11.  The  men  with  the  axes  sprang  away,  while  the  last 
blocks  whirled  over  beneath  her  keel,  as  her  weight  came 
down  on  the  bilgeways,  and  they  began  to  slide.  It  was  a 
grand  sight, — that  immense  structure,  a  ship  of  the  largest 
size,  starting  slowly  at  first,  then  moving  off  faster  and 
faster,  striking  the  water,  and  throwing  up  a  great  wave  as 
she  plunged  in ! 

12.  You  never  heard  heartier  cheers !  I  cheered  and 
swung  my  hat  till  everybody  else  was  done,  I  was  so  ex- 
cited. The  tugs  held  her,  and  then  we  cheered  again. 
Everybody  likes  to  see  a  great  enterprise  carried  out  with 
such  perfect  success;  and  building  and  launching  such  a 
vessel  is  one  of  the  grandest. 

13.  There  were  a  few  gentlemen  and  ladies  aboard  of  her 
when  she  went  off;  and  how  I  envied  them !  Yet  people 
said  the  sight  was  better  from  the  shore. 

14.  Well,  it  was  all  over;  and  what  astonished  me  as 
much  as  anything  was  the  hole  she  made  in  that  yard  after 
she  had  gone  off.  Imagine  a  meeting-house  in  a  village 
square  suddenly  disappearing,  leaving  it  vacant,  and  a 
crowd  of  people  around  the  spot  where  it  stood,  and  you 
win  have  some  idea  of  it.  j^  ^^  Trowbridge. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  A  multitude  had  assembled  in  the  yard. 

2.  Ihe  track  had  an  incline  to  make  her  glide  off  gracefully. 

3.  The  props  were  taken  away  and  the  order  came  to  launch. 

4.  The  concourse  of  people  was  entirely  still. 

5;  The  large  ropes  broke  they  tried  to  hold  her  with. 
6.  You  never  heard  louder  shauts. 


FIKST   HOURS   IN   THE   COUNTRY.  63 


XX.—SLi:iGHIJfG  SOJ^G. 
I. 

AWAY!  away!  the  track  is  white, 
The  stars  are  shining  clear  to-night, 
The  winter  winds  are  sleeping; 
The  moon  above  the  steeple  tall, 
A  silver  crescent,  over  all. 
Her  silent  watch  is  keeping. 

II. 
Away!  away!  our  hearts  are  gay. 
And  need  not  breathe,  by  night  or  day, 

A  sigh  for  summer  pleasure; 
The  merry  bells  ring  gayly  out, 
Our  lips  keep  time  with  song  and  shout, 

And  laugh  in  happy  measure. 

III. 
Away!  away!  across  the  plain 
We  sweep  as  sea-birds  skim  the  main, 

Our  pulses  gayly  leaping; 
The  stars  are  bright,  the  track  is  white, 
There 's  joy  in  every  heart  to-night. 
While  winter  winds  are  sleeping. 

Emily  H.  Miller. 


XXl.—FIBST  HOURS  IM  THE  COUNTRY. 

TOM  STEWART  was  the  only  son  of  a  wealthy  Boston 
merchant.  He  had  passed  all  his  life  in  the  city 
homCj  his  country  experience  being  limited  to  summer  ex- 
cursions with  his  parents  to  some  fashionable  resort. 

2.  Close  confinement  to  study,  and  lack  of  good  hearty 
exercise,  had  begun  to  show  their  effects  upon  Tom ;  and, 
although  a  tall,  handsome  boy  of  fourteen,  he  was  pale  and 
slender  as  a  girl.     It  was  to  put  color  into  his  cheeks,  and 


64  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

strength  and  vigor  into  his  whole  frame,  that  Mr.  Stewart 
had  sent  him  for  the  summer  to  share  the  country  sports 
of  his  cousins. 

3.  Tom  was  quite  homesick  the  first  evening  at  the  farm- 
house, and  had  but  little  appetite  for  the  fresh  biscuits  and 
baked  apples  and  cream  his  aunt  Merton  had  prepared  for 
his  supper.  Even  the  kind  attention  of  his  cousin  Rose 
failed  to  cheer  him  up,  and  he  was  glad  when  the  time 
came  to  take  his  candle  and  go  up  stairs  to  the  neat  little 
chamber  he  was  to  occupy  during  the  summer. 

4.  When  Tom  waked  the  next  morning  all  the  home- 
sickness of  the  previous  evening  fell  back  heavy  on  his 
heart.  He  thought  he  never  could  and  never  would  like 
the  country  or  anything  about  it. 

5.  But  by  the  time  he  was  ready  to  go  down  to  break- 
fast, the  fresh  air  and  clear  morning  sunlight  began  to 
exercise  an  exhilarating  effect  upon  his  spirits.  Hal  was 
whistling  a  lively  tune  out  under  the  elm,  and  Rose  was 
singing  as  she  sat  at  work  on  the  front  doorstep. 

6.  ''Good-morning,  Tom!"  said  she.  "Are  you  rested 
yet?  Mother  has  saved  breakfast  for  you,  and  I  guess  that 
by  this  time  you  must  be  very  hungry." 

7.  "  Have  you  had  breakfast  already  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

8.  "  Oh  yes,  of  course,"  said  Rose,  with  a  merry  laugh, 
"several  hours  ago.  But  never  mind.  You  will  soon 
grow  accustomed  to  country  hours,  and  rise  with  the 
earliest." 

9.  Tom  ate  his  breakfast  with  a  good  appetite,  and  then 
went  out  under  the  elm  to  see  what  his  cousin  Hal  was 
doing. 

10.  Hal  was  sitting  on  a  large  flat  rock,  and  seemed  to 
be  very  busy  over  something,  but  he  looked  up  as  Tom 
approached. 

11.  " Come  and  help  me,  Tom,"  said  he ;  "I  caught  my 
net  in  the  bushes  yesterday,  and  am  trying  to  mend  it." 

12.  "  Your  net,  Hal !     Are  you  going  fishing  ?  " 

13.  "  Oh  no,  not  to-d^y.    Besides,  do  you  suppose  I  could 


FIRST   HOUKS   IN   THE   COUNTRY 


65 


i".-^^^^^^-^ 


catch  fish  with  this  gauzy  thing?    You  will  learn  better 
than  that  before  you  have  been  here  many  weeks." 

14.  "  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it,  then  ?  " 

15.  "  Well,  you  see,  our  class  in  school  are  just  com- 
mencing the  study  of  Lepidop'tera,  and — " 

16.  "Study  of  what?"  interrupted  Tom. 

17.  "Why,  don't  you  know?  The  study  of  butterflies 
and  moths.  We  catch  specimens  and  take  them  to  our 
school-teacher,  who  tells  us  all  about  them." 

18.  "  Why,  do  you  really  catch  them  in  nets?" 

19.  "  Yes.  I  was  out  hunting  all  day  yesterday,  but  1 
hadn't  any  luck  at  all,  though  I  chased  a  dozen  all  over 
the  fields.  You  see  we  have  to  begin  hunting  early  in  the 
season,  because  the  various  kinds  of  butterflies  appear  in 
different  months,  and  it 's  already  time  for  the  earliest  to 
be  creeping  out.  Those  which  come  latest  in  the  autumn 
erawl  into  the  cracks  of  barns  and  sheds,  and  sometimes 
into  piles  of  wood,  and  live  there  through  the  winter,  and 
it  is  to  hunt  for  these  that  I  am  going  out  to-morrow." 

4  * 


66  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

20.  "  What  do  you  do  with  the  butterflies  when  you  have 
caught  them  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

21.  "  Oh,  you  '11  see.  Rose  will  make  you  a  net,  and 
then  you  can  go  hunting  with  me.  A  few  tramps  over  the 
mountain  will  do  you  good.  As  you  look  now,  I  would  n't 
give  much  for  you  among  us  country  boys  at  any  sort  of  a 
game." 

22.  Tom  was  at  first  inclined  to  resent  this  uncompli- 
mentary speech.  Though  of  slighter  form  than  Hal,  he 
was  already  quite  expert  in  gymnastic  games,  and  his 
muscles  were  firm  and  nervous.  But,  as  he  looked  at  his 
stout  and  sturdy  cousin,  he  thought  it  best  not  to  boast 
too  loudly. 

23.  Mending  the  torn  net  proved  to  be  too  nice  a  job  for 
Hal's  skill,  and  the  boys  went  into  the  house  to  ask  Rose's 
assistance. 

24.  Of  course  Tom  must  have  a  net  too,  so  Hal  imme- 
diately set  to  work  upon  the  frame.  He  took  a  common 
flat  barrel-hoop,  and  slit  off*  a  strip  about  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  in  width;  of  this  he  made  a  hoop  about  a  foot  in 
diameter,  which  he  bound  with  a  wire  to  a  light  hickory 
rod  of  the  thickness  of  a  parasol  handle  and  about  three 
feet  long. 

25.  When  he  had  completed  his  frame,  Rose  took  a  cir- 
cular piece  of  mosquito-netting,  about  three  quarters  of  a 
yard  in  diameter,  and  bound  it  firmly  to  the  hoop,  and  the 
net  was  finished. 

26.  Butterfly-nets  can  be  bought  ready  made;  but  any 
boy  who  is  handy  with  his  knife  can  make  his  own.  The 
frame  should  be  light,  so  as  not  to  fatigue  the  hand,  and  at 
the  same  time  strong  enough  to  endure  a  good  deal  of  rough 
work  among  the  bushes. 

27.  A  piece  of  ratan  from  an  old  umbrella  makes  a  good 
hoop ;  and  nothing  is  better  for  the  handle  than  a  farmer's 
goad-stick  or  wooden  whip,  which  is  light,  strong,  and  not 
too  elastic.  Great  attention  should  be  paid  to  joining  the 
handle  to  the  hoop.     If  this  is  not  firmly  done,  the  frame 


THE   FIRST   BUTTERFLY.  67 

may  come  in  two  when  you  are  in  hot  pursuit  of  butter- 
flies ;  and  if  you  have  not  with  you  the  means  of  repairing 
the  damage,  you  may  lose  the  whole  day's  sport. 


XXU—THU  FIRST  BUTTERFLY. 

AN  early  spring  morning  in  New  England  possesses  a 
sweet  charm  of  its  own,  unequaled  in  any  other 
part  of  the  world.  The  warm  rays  of  the  sun  melt  the  deep 
winter  snows,  and  send  merry  rivulets  dancing  and  spark- 
ling down  every  hillside.  The  meadows  are  wet  and  soft, 
and  all  the  hollows  are  miniature  lakes,  by  which  the  green 
grass  already  shoots  up  in  tall,  slender  spires.  Along  the 
roadside,  and  under  the  stone  walls,  the  dingy  snow-banks 
waste  rapidly  away,  giving  place  to  banks  of  emerald  turf 
and  delicate  wayside  flowers. 

2.  It  was  one  of  these  sweet  mornings  that  Hal,  with  his 
net  and  box  and  bottle  of  ether,  started  out  with  Tom  to 
hunt  for  the  first  spring  butterfly,  the  Antiopa,  which,  after 
living  all  winter  in  old  buildings  or  wood-piles,  creeps  out 
to  die  in  the  warm  April  sunshine. 

3.  "Are  we  going  to  tramp  all  over  the  wet,  splashy 
meadows?"  asked  Tom. 

4.  "  Oh  no,"  answered  Hal,  "  not  to-day.  But  you  need  n't 
look  so  fearfully  at  the  wet  fields,  for  long  before  summer 
is  over  I  shall  go  straight  through  mud  and  water,  and  so 
will  you.  To-day  we  will  only  hunt  round  the  barns  and 
wood-shed,  although  Mr.  Benedict  says  the  Antiopa  is  found 
in  warm,  sunny  places  in  the  woods." 

5.  "  Who  is  Mr.  Benedict?" 

6.  "  He  is  our  teacher.  A  real  jolly  man  he  is,  too,  and 
all  the  boys  like  him.  But  why  didn't  you  bring  your 
net?" 

7.  "  Rose  has  not  finished  it  yet.  I  shall  catch  about  as 
much  with  the  net  in  her  work-basket  as  if  I  had  it  out 
here." 


68  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

8.  "  Don't  say  that,  Tom.  But  as  your  hands  are  empty, 
you  may  as  well  carry  my  box." 

9.  "You  don't  expect  to  fill  this  big  box  to-day,  do 
you?" 

10.  "  The  box  will  hold  one,  if  I  have  the  luck  to  catch 
it,"  said  Hal,  laughing.  "  But,  you  see,  perhaps  we  shall 
hunt  for  nothing  all  day.  Butterfly-hunting  takes  just  as 
much  patience  and  skill  as  fishing,  only  it  is  more  active 
sport." 

11.  While  they  were  talking,  the  two  boys  walked 
leisurely  along  through  the  back  yard  of  Mr.  Merton's 
house.  They  climbed  over  the  bars,  and  went  down  the 
lane  to  the  barn. 

12.  "Hal,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  this  ether?" 
asked  Tom.  "  The  smell  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  was  going 
to  have  a  tooth  pulled." 

13.  "I  am  going  to  serve  the  butterflies  just  as  the  dentist 
serves  you,"  replied  Hal.  "  Soon  as  I  catch  one,  I  put  a 
drop  of  this  to  its  nose,  and  put  it  to  sleep,  so  that  it  will 
feel  no  pain ;  then  I  fasten  it  with  a  pin  to  one  of  those 
pieces  of  cork  you  see  in  the  box.  I  put  the  butterflies  to 
sleep  before  taking  them  from  the  net,  or  else  they  would 
flutter  and  struggle  so  as  to  destroy  all  the  delicate  down 
on  their  wings.     But  you  shall  see.     Come  along." 

14.  The  noon  sun  had  spread  its  full  glory  of  warmth 
and  light  through  the  air,  and  the  boys  stepped  very  cau- 
tiously, for  Hal  said  they  might  find  a  butterfly  hovering 
over  any  of  the  old  logs  that  lay  scattered  about  in  the 
grass. 

15.  "  Keep  a  little  behind  me,  Tom,"  said  Hal,  "  for  the 
Antiopa  are  very  shy,  and  if  I  see  one  lighted  I  want  to 
throw  my  net  over  it  before  anything  starts  it.  This  kind 
fly  very  high,  and  it  isn't  easy  to  chase  them." 

16.  "  Why,  Hal,  I  thought  you  had  just  begun  to  study 
Lepi —  What  do  you  call  it  ?  But  you  seem  to  know  all 
about  the  habits  of  the  butterflies  now." 

17.  "Of  course  I  have  had  to  study  some  before  begin- 


THE    FIRST   BUTTERFLY.  by 

ning  to  catch  them,"  replied  Hal;  "and,  besides,  last 
autumn  I  hunted  and  found  a  few,  but  I  was  awkward 
then,  and  tore  them  all  to  pieces  trying  to  arrange  them 
on  the  corks.  Stop!  stop!  There's  one  lighted  on  that 
old  log." 

18.  Hal  stole  softly  along  and  threw  his  net,  but  the 
beautiful  insect  floated  up  over  the  roof  of  the  barn,  and 
finally  lighted  far  above  Hal's  reach. 

19.  Hal  did  not  stop  to  reply  to  Tom's  loud  ringing 
laugh,  but  went  on  quietly  looking  for  more  butterflies, 
turning  every  now  and  then  to  see  whether  the  first  one 
had  flown  from  the  roof  It  soon  darted  ofi"  over  the  other 
side  of  the  building,  and  Hal  chased  after  it,  leaving  his 
cousin  behind.  Very  soon  Tom  heard  Hal  calling  for  the 
box  and  ether. 

20.  When  Tom  came  up,  Hal  had  gathered  the  net  up 
into  a  bundle,  confining  the  insect  in  a  small  space.  He 
was  holding  it  very  carefully  to  keep  it  quiet  until  he  could 
put  it  to  sleep  with  a  drop  of  ether.  Tom  held  the  bottle, 
while  Hal  with  a  delicate  brush  dropped  a  little  ether  on 
the  butterfly's  head. 

21.  The  insect  soon  ceased  moving,  and  Hal  then  fastened 
it  by  means  of  a  long,  slender  pin  to  one  of  the  corks  in  his 
box,  and  spread  out  its  wings  so  as  to  show  all  the  beauty 
and  variety  of  the  colors. 

22.  "  You  punch  it  with  that  ugly  pin  as  if  it  was  dead 
instead  of  asleep,"  said  Tom. 

23.  "  Yes,  I  know  I  do ;  and  perhaps  it  is  dead,"  replied 
Hal,  all  the  while  busily  arranging  the  wings  before  they 
grew  stiff"  and  brittle.  "  Sometimes  they  wake  up,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  and  then  I  have  to  give  them  another  dose  of 
ether." 

24.  It  was  now  nearly  time  for  dinner,  and  the  boys 
turned  to  go  into  the  house.  In  the  yard  Hal  succeeded 
in  catching  two  more  butterflies  of  the  same  kind. 

25.  "  Why  do  you  keep  so  many  just  alike  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

26.  "The  specimens  are  not  always  perfect,"  answered 


70  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

Hal ;  "  and  then  we  want  a  pair  in  our  collection.    The 

female  is  always  larger  and  more  beautiful  in  color  than 

the  male.     Besides,  with  many  butterflies  the  under  side  is 

quite  as  interesting  to  examine  as  the  upper.   So  we  catch  all 

we  can,  and  afterwards  select  the  finest  specimens  to  keep." 

The  boys  stopped  to  show  their  specimens  to  Rose,  who 

was  waiting  for  them  in  the  doorway.     All  three  then  went 

IP  to  dinner. 

— •<>• —  Helen  S.  Conant. 

XXIII.— r^^  WIJ{D  AKD  THE  BREEZE. 

I. 

A  MIGHTY  wind  went  raging  by — 
It  was  a  wondrous  sight; 
Stout  trees  bent  down  their  branches  high, 
Dark  clouds  of  dust  whirled  through  the  sky, 
And  naught  around  me  could  I  spy, 
But  trophies  of  its  might. 

II. 

A  little  breeze  passed  gently  o'er — 

I  scarcely  heard  its  tread; 
Yet  freshness  to  the  flowers  it  bore, 
And  through  the  open  cottage-door, 
Their  fragrance  floated  in  once  more, 

Around  the  sick  man's  head. 

III. 
Then  thought  I,  it  were  grand,  I  know. 

The  strong,  proud  wind  to  be ; 
But,  better  far,  subdued  to  go, 
Along  the  path  of  human  woe, 
Like  the  mild  breeze,  so  soft  and  low, 

In  its  sweet  ministry. 


EXEBOISE. 

1.  A  strong  wind  went  furioits  by. 

2.  Nothing  around  me  could  I  see  but  evidences  of  its  might 

3.  It  carried  freshness  to  the  blossoms. 

4.  Their  perfume  was  wafted  in  again. 

5.  It  is  better  to  go  with  mildness  along  the  path  of  sorrow. 


LEARNING  TO  SWIM.  71 


XXIY. —LUABXIJ^G  TO  SWIM. 

IT  was  June  when  Lawrence  came  to  the  pond-side  to 
live.  His  uncle's  house  stood  on  a  high  green  bank ; 
and  his  aunt  gave  him  an  attic  room  with  a  window  that 
looked  out  upon  the  water.  The  winding  shores  were  fringed 
with  flags  and  willows,  or  overhung  by  shady  groves ;  and 
all  around'  were  orchards  and  gardens  and  meadows. 

2.  A  happy  boy  was  Lawrence,  for  he  was  passionately 
fond  of  the  water,  and  he  had  never  lived  so  near  a  pond 
before.  The  scene  from  his  window  was  never  twice  the 
same.  Sometimes  the  pond  was  like  glass,  mirroring  the 
sky  and  the  still  trees.  Sometimes  light  breezes  swept  over 
it,  and  sail-boats  rode  the  dancing  waves. 

3.  Then  there  were  the  evenings,  when  clouds  of  the  love- 
liest colors  floated  above  it,  and  the  moon  rose  and  silvered 
it ;  and  the  mornings,  when  all  the  splendors  of  the  new- 
risen  sun  were  reflected  into  Lawrence's  chamber. 

4.  Whenever  he  had  a  leisure  hour — for  he  went  to 
school,  and  worked  in  the  garden — he  was  to  be  seen  ram- 
bling by  the  shore,  or  rowing  away  in  his  uncle's  boat ;  and 
he  found  that  the  faithful  performance  of  his  tasks  made 
his  sports  all  the  sweeter  to  him. 

5.  As  children  who  play  about  the  water  are  always  in 
more  or  less  danger  of  falling  into  it,  Lawrence's  uncle  had 
lost  no  time  in  teaching  him  to  swim. 

6.  "  The  first  thing  for  you  to  learn,"  said  the  doctor — for 
his  uncle  was  a  physician — "  is  confidence.  Plunge  your 
head  under  water." 

7.  Lawrence  did  so,  and  came  up  with  dripping  hair  and 
face,  gasping.  The  doctor  made  him  repeat  the  exercise 
until  he  neither  gasped  nor  choked. 

8.  "  That  does  not  hurt  you,  does  it  ?  No.  Neither  will 
it  hurt -you  if  you  sink  to  the  bottom,  for  you  can  hold  your 
breath ;  the  water  is  shallow,  and,  besides,  I  am  here  to  help 
you.     Now  try  to  take  a  single  stroke,  just  as  the  frogs  do. 


'72  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

Throw  yourself  boldly  off  your  feet,  and  don't  be  afraid  ui 
sinking." 

9.  Lawrence,  after  considerable  hesitation,  tried  the  ex- 
periment, and  found  that  he  could  swim  a  single  stroke, 
and  come  down  upon  his  feet  again  without  drowning.  He 
tried  it  again  and  again,  delighted  at  his  success. 

10.  "  That  will  do  for  this  lesson,"  said  his  uncle.  "  You 
have  been  long  enough  in  the  water.  Swimming  is  fine 
exercise  for  boys,  and  the  bath  is  good  for  them ;  but  they 
often  make  the  mistake  of  staying  too  long  in  the  water. 
Especially  at  first  you  must  be  careful ;  after  you  get  used 
to  it,  you  can  stay  in  longer.  Never  go  in  when  you  are 
heated;  or  if  you  do,  come  out  again  immediately,  and 
continue  exercising,  so  as  to  keep  the  pores  of  your  skin 
open." 

11.  Lawrence  learned,  in  his  next  lesson,  to  swim  two 
strokes,  and  in  a  few  days  he  could  swim  a  rod.  His  uncle 
then  taught  him  how  to  dive. 

11.  "  You  must^avoid  falling  flat  on  the  water ;  for  if  you 
do  so,  from  any  great  height,  it  will  beat  the  breath  out  of 
your  body  almost  as  suddenly  as  if  you  struck  a  board. 
Learn  to  keep  your  eyes  open  under  water.  Some  persons' 
nostrils  are  so  large  that  the  water  gets  into  their  heads 
when  they  dive ;  if  that  is  the  case  with  yours,  it  will  be 
well  to  stuff  a  little  cotton  into  them." 

13.  Lawrence  found  no  trouble  of  that  kind.  He  was 
soon  able  to  dive,  and  pick  up  pebbles,  and  to  swim  beneath 
the  surface. 

EXEBCISE. 

1.  The  pond  was  like  glass  reflecting  the  canopy  of  heaven. 

2.  Clouds  of  the  most  beautiful  hues  floated  above  it. 

3.  Sometimes  gentle  winds  blew  over  it. 

4.  The  moon  ascended  and  made  it  bright. 

5.  He  was  to  be  seen  strolling  by  the  bank. 

6.  Doing  his  work  made  his  plays  all  the  sweeter  to  him. 

7.  The  first  thing  for  you  to  learn  is  self-reliance. 

8.  Come  out  again  instantly  and  keep  on  exercising. 


LITTLE  JERRY,   THE   MILLER. 


73 


XXV.— LITTLE  JERB-Y,  THE  MILLER. 

I. 

BENEATH  the  hill  you  may  see  the  mill 
Of  wasting  wood  and  crumbling  stone; 
The  wheel  is  dripping  and  clattering  still, 
But  Jerry,  the  miller,  is  dead  and  gone. 


II. 


Year  after  year,  early  and  late, 

Alike  in  summer  and  winter  weather. 

He  pecked  the  stones  and  calked  the  gate, 
And  mill  and  miller  grew  old  together. 


74  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

m. 

"Little  Jerry!" — 'twas  all  the  same — 
They  loved  him  well  who  called  him  so; 

And  whether  he'd  ever  another  name, 
Nobody  ever  seemed  to  know. 

IV. 

Twas  "  Little  Jerry,  come  grind  my  rye ;" 
And  "Little  Jerry,  come  grind  my  wheat;' 

And  "Little  Jerry"  was  still  the  cry. 
From  matron  bold  and  maiden  sweet. 

V. 

'Twas  "Little  Jerry"  on  every  tongue. 
And  thus  the  simple  truth  was  told; 

For  Jerry  was  little  when  he  was  young. 
And  he  was  little  when  he  was  old. 

VI. 

But  what  in  size  he  chanced  to  lack, 
Jerry  made  up  in  being  strong; 

I've  seen  a  sack  upon  his  back. 
As  thick  as  the  miller  and  quite  as  long. 

VII. 

Always  busy  and  always  merry, 

Always  doing  his  very  best, 
A  notable  wag  was  little  Jerry, 

Wlio  uttered  well  his  standing  jest. 

VIII. 

How  Jerry  lived  is  known  to  fame, 
But  how  he  died  there's  none  may  know: 

One  autumn  day  the  rumor  came — 
"The  brook  and  Jerry  are  very  low." 

IX. 

And  then  'twas  whispered  mournfully 
The  leech*  had  come  and  he  was  dead, 

And  all  the  neighbors  flocked  to  see; 
"Poor  Little  Jerry"  was  all  they  said. 

*  Leech,  a  doctor. 


A   DOG   SAVING   A  SHIP.  75 

X. 

They  laid  him  in  his  earthly  bed — 

His  miller's  coat  his  only  shroud— 
"Dust  to  dust,"  the  parson  said, 

And  all  the  people  wept  aloud. 

XI. 

For  he  had  shunned  the  deadly  sin, 

And  "not  a  grain  of  over-toll 
Had  ever  dropped  into  his  bin. 

To  weigh  upon  his  parting  soul. 

XII. 

Beneath  the  hill  there  stands  the  mill 
Of  wasting  wood  and  crumbling  stone ; 

The  wheel  is  dripping  and  clattering  still. 
But  Jerry,  the  miller,  is  dead  and  gone. 

J.  G.  Saxe. 


XXVL— .^  DOG  SAVIJfG  A  SHIP. 

A  FEW  years  ago  a  sea-captain  of  Massachusetts,  who 
was  in  Havre,  in  France,  obtained  there  a  fine  little 
rat  tewier,  which  he  called  "  Neptune,"  to  be  a  companion 
on  his  voyage.  Little  Neptune  soon  learned  to  like  the 
vessel,  and  he  would  run  up  the  ladders  like  a  little  sailor, 
though  he  could  not  come  down  without  help. 

2.  After  the  vessel  had  been  at  sea  some  weeks  or  months, 
when  they  began  to  approach  land,  before  it  could  be  seen 
by  the  men,  Nep.  would  mount  high  up  on  the  fore  part  of 
the  ship,  and  snufF,  and  snuff,  and  bark,  and  show  signs  of 
joy.  His  keen  scent  enabled  him  to  smell  the  land  before 
it  could  be  seen.  He  would  also  detect  the  approach  of 
another  ship  when  he  could  not  see  it,  in  the  same  way. 

3.  When  Nep.  had  been  to  sea  with  his  master  about  two 
years,  the  Hortensia  (that  was  the  vessel's  name)  had  been 
to  New  Orleans  for  a  load  of  cotton,  and  was  on  her  way 
out  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  For 
some   days  there  had  been  squally  weather,  with   light, 


76  THE   FOUETH   READER. 

baffling  winds,  and  the  vessel  had  not  sailed  very  rapidly, 
but  she  was  in  a  dangerous  neighborhood,  and  a  constant 
watch  was  necessary;  for  along  the  coast  of  Florida  are 
long,  low  reefs,  and  islands,  and  bars,  which  have  caused 
the  destruction  of  many  vessels. 

4.  It  had  been  the  captain's  watch  in  the  early  part  of 
the  night — that  is,  the  captain,  with  a  few  men,  remained 
upon  the  deck  while  the  rest  slept ;  then  the  others,  at  the 
sound  of  the  bell,  came  upon  deck,  the  mate  took  charge 
of  the  ship,  the  men  who  had  been  watching  went  below, 
and  the  captain,  after  telling  the  mate  to  call  him  before 
three  o'clock,  went  below  and  turned  into  his  berth  to  sleep. 
Nep.  lay  at  his  master's  state-room  door,  for  that  was  his 
sleeping-place. 

5.  There  lies  in  the  Florida  Straits  a  large  and  dangerous 
rock  called  the  "  Double-headed  Shot  Keys."  A  light- 
house is  built  upon  it,  that  vessels  may  be  kept  from  run- 
ning upon  it  in  the  night. 

6.  "  Be  sure  to  call  me  by  three  o'clock,"  said  the  cap- 
tain, "as  by  that  time  we  shall  be  up  with  the  Double- 
headed  Shot  Keys;  and  sooner  if  there  is  a  change  of 
weather."  . 

7.  The  night  wore  on,  and  all  was  still  but  the  splashing 
of  water.  The  mate  went  below  to  get  something  from  his 
chest,  sat  down  upon  it  a  few  minutes,  and,  before  he  knew 
it,  was  fast  asleep.  The  men  on  deck,  receiving  no  orders, 
supposed  all  was  right,  and  one  by  one  they  too  fell  asleep. 
No  one  was  awake  but  a  little  Spanish  boy,  whose  turn  it 
was  to  be  at  the  wheel — that  is,  the  helm,  where  they  steer 
the  vessel. 

8.  Meantime  the  wind  changed,  a  stiff  breeze  sprang  up, 
the  sails  were  filled,  and  the  Hortensia  ploughed  through 
the  ocean  briskly,  straight  towards  the  Double-headed  Shot 
Keys.  The  little  Spanish  boy,  half  asleep  at  the  helm, 
knew  not  of  the  danger,  neither  could  he  see  ahead  from 
where  he  stood,  for  the  great  sails  concealed  the  view  of 
the  lighthouse.     But  Nep.,  the  good  sailor  that  he  was, 


A   DOG  SAVING   A   SHIP.  77 

discovered  that  land  was  near;  he  smelt  it  and  he  saw 
the  light.  He  rushed  d&wn  to  his  master's  state-room, 
and  barked  and  jumped  up  to  him  as  he  lay  in  his  berth. 

9.  "  Get  down !  be  still,  Nep. ! "  said  the  sleepy  captain. 
But  Nep.  would  not  be  still — he  only  barked  the  louder. 
*^  Be  still ! "  said  the  captain  again ;  and  he  pushed  the  dog 
away.  Again  the  faithful  little  fellow  jumped  up,  pulled  his 
master's  sleeve,  and  took  hold  of  his  arm  with  his  teeth. 

10.  Then  the  captain,  thoroughly  roused,  began  to  think 
something  must  be  the  matter.  He  sprang  up,  and  Nep. 
ran  forward,  barking,  to  the  companion-way.  The  cap- 
tain's head  no  sooner  came  above  the  deck  than  he  saw 
what  was  the  matter.  Right  ahead  was  the  fearful  rock, 
and  the  lighthouse,  and  the  ship  plunging  towards  it  at  the 
rate  of  nine  miles  an  hour. 

11.  He  seized  the  helm ;  the  ship  struggled,  swung  round, 
and,  when  her  course  was  shifted,  she  was  so  near  the  rock 
that  in  a  few  minutes  more  she  would  have  struck  and 
been  a  wreck.  The  sleeping  sailors  were  roused  to  their 
duty,  and  the  astonished  mate  rose  up  from  his  nap  on  his 
chest,  to  learn  that  but  for  the  faithful  dog  the  waves  might 
have  already  closed  over  them. 

12.  Do  you  wonder  that  the  captain  thinks  his  dog  is 
worth  his  weight  in  gold  ?  He  has  been  offered  large  sums 
of  money  for  him,  but  money  cannot  buy  him.  He  does 
not  go  to  sea  now.  Nep.  went  as  long  as  his  master  did, 
and  now  makes  himself  quietly  useful  at  home  by  catching 
all  the  rats  in  the  neighborhood.  May  he  live  to  a  good 
old  age,  the  pet  and  admiration  of  all  who  know  him  I 


EXE  BOISE. 

1.  When  they  came  near  land  the  dog  would  bark. 

2.  He  would  discover  the  approach  of  anotlier  vessel. 

3.  For  some  days  there  had  been  stormy  weather. 

4.  They  were  in  an  unsafe  neighborhood. 

5.  The  captain  staid  on  deck  while  the  mate  slumbered. 

6.  The  ship  rnade  way  through  the  sea  rapidly. 


78  THE   FOUKTH   KEADEK. 

XXVIL— MBS.   GRAMMAR' S  BALL, 

I. 

MRS.  GRAMMAR  once  gave  a  fine  ball 
To  the  nine  different  parts  of  our  speech; 
To  the  short  and  the  tall, 
To  the  stout  and  the  small, 
There  were  pies,  plums,  and  puddings  for  eachc 

n. 

And  first  little  Articles  came, 

In  a  hurry  to  make  themselves  known, — 

Fat  A,  An,  and  The; 

But  none  of  the  three 
Could  stand  for  a  minute  alone. 

III. 
Then  Adjectives  came  to  announce 
That  their  dear  friends  the  Nouns  were  at  hand; 

Rough,  rougher,  and  roughest, 

Tough,  tougher,  and  toughest. 
Fat,  merry,  good-natured,  and  grand. 

IV. 
The  Nouns  were  indeed  on  their  way. 
Tens  of  thousands,  and  more  I  should  think; 

For  each  name  that  we  utter, 

Shop,  shoulder,  or  shutter, 
Is  a  Noun;  lady,  lion,  or  link. 

V. 

The  Pronouns  were  hastening  fast 

To  push  the  Nouns  out  of  their  places; 

J,  thou,  he,  and  she, 

You,  it,  they,  and  we. 
With  their  sprightly  intelligent  faces. 

VI. 

Some  cried  out,  "Make  way  for  the  Verbs! 
A  great  crowd  is  coming  in  view!" 


MRS.  grammar's  ball.  79 

To  light  and  to  smUCj 

To  fight  and  to    hitey 

To  he,  and  to  have,  and  to  do. 

VII. 

The  Adverbs  attend  on  the  Verbs, 
Behind  as  their  footmen  they  run; 

As  thus,  "to  fight  badly," 

And  "run  away  gladly," 
Show  how  fighting  and  running  were  done. 

VIII. 

Prepositions  came,  in,  by,  and  near; 
With  Conjunctions,  a  wee  little  band, 

As  either  you  or  he. 

But  neither  I  nor  she; 
They  held  their  great  friends  by  the  hand. 

IX. 

Then,  too,  with  a  hip,  hip,  hurrah! 
Rushed  in  Interjections  uproarious; 

Dear  me!  well-a-day! 

When  they  saw  the  display, 
"Ha!  Ha!"  they  all  shouted  out,  "glorious!" 

X. 

But,  alas!  what  misfortunes  were  nigh! 
While  the  fun  and  the  feasting  pleased  each, 

Pounced  on  them  at  once 

A  monster — a  Dunce! 
And  confounded  the  Nine  Parts  of  Speech! 

XI. 

Help!  friends!  to  the  rescue!  on  you 
For  aid  Verb  and  Article  call ; 

Oh!  give  your  protection 

To  poor  Interjection, 
Noun,  Pronoun,  Conjunction,  and  all ! 


80  THE  FOURTH   READER. 


XXNlll.— FLOWERS  AKB  THEIR  STORIES. 

"  T^T  is  pleasant  sitting  out  here,  mamma,  with  birds  sing- 
1  ing  and  flowers  smelling  so  sweetly  all  around  us. 
And  see,  I  have  gathered  quite  a  large  bunch  of  violets  for 
you-  I  wonder,  now,  if  you  wouldn't  tell  me  something 
about  them,  for  I  begin  to  think  everything  has  its  story,  if 
YfQ  only  knew  it." 

2.  "  One  of  the  stories  that  I  know  about  these  sweet  little 
flowers  is  as  simple  and  true  as  themselves.  It  is  that  of 
Jean  Bertram,*  a  young  American  farmer,  who  had  always 
been  content  to  follow  the  plough,  without  taking  any 
notice  of  the  beautiful  country  around  him.  One  day, 
however,  he  happened  to  pick  up  a  little  bunch  of  vio- 
lets. Their  odor  pleased  him  so  much  that  he  began  to 
look  closer,  to  admire,  and  then  to  compare  them  with  the 
other  flowers  which  he  passed. 

3.  "  He  at  last  took  so  much  interest  in  the  difference 
of  plants,  that  he  borrowed  a  few  books  on  the  subject, 
learned  Latin  to  study  them  better,  and,  finally,  gave  up 
ploughing,  and  became  a  very  celebrated  botanist, — all,  as 
he  afterwards  said,  from  the  looking  at  that  one  little  root 
of  violets." 

4.  "  I  knew  the  violet  must  have  some  story.  I  think  it 
is  such  a  favorite  with  everybody." 

5.  "  It  always  has  been ;  the  Greeks  dedicated  it  to  their 
goddess  Athena,  and,  as  usual,  invented  a  pretty  fable  about 
the  origin  of  this  modest  flower.  They  said  that  as  Apollo 
(one  of  the  heathen  deities)  was  playing  at  quoits  with 
Hyacinthus,t  Prince  of  Sparta,  a  pretty  youth,  whom  he 
dearly  loved,  the  wind  caught  one  of  the  quoits  and  flung 
it  against  the  boy's  head,  who  fell  dying  to  the  ground. 
Each  drop  of  blood  that  sank  into  the  earth  sprang  up  again 
a  sweet  and  scented  violet. 

*  Pronounced  Jeen  Ber^-tram.  f  Pron.  Hy-a-sin''-thu8. 


FLOWERS   AND   THEIR  STORIES.  81 

"  As  one  ot  their  poets  has  written : 

*  Behold,  the  blood  which  late  the  grass  has  dyed 
Was  now  no  blood;  from  there  a  powerful  bloom, 
Far  brighter  than  the  Tyrian  purple,  shone/ 

6.  "  The  Romans  also  loved  it,  and  placed  a  wreath  of 
violets  on  their  dead." 

7.  "  I  think  that  these  Romans  were  very  fond  of  wreaths 
of  flowers." 

8.  "  Yes ;  one  pretty  custom  was,  that  when  a  baby  was 
born,  a  wreath  of  the  wild  olive  was  hung  over  the  cradle ; 
but  over  a  little  girl's  they  twined  wool,  to  show  that  when 
she  grew  up  she  must  be  a  good  housewife.  When  she 
became  a  young  girl,  she  might  wear  a  myrtle-wreath  on 
grand  occasions,  which  after  her  marriage  she  would  ex- 
change for  a  garland  of  the  bright  red  poppies,  to  show  how 
bright  and  happy  her  days  had  become. 

9.  "  Speaking  of  their  beauty,  we  must  not  forget  what 
useful  things  flowers  and  plants  are.  I  don't  know,  I  'm 
sure,  how  the  world  would  get  on  without  them." 

10.  "Useful,  mamma!  I  thought  they  were  only  to 
look  at." 

11.  "No;  their  real  use  often  begins  when  they  are 
withered  and  faded,  and  when  they  have  done  pleasing 
the  eye.  Many  people  touch  no  other  medicine  than  the 
roots  and  leaves  they  gather  in  the  fields,  ground  into 
powder  or  soaked  into  tea.  By  constant  observation  they 
know  for  what  particular  disease  each  plant  is  a  remedv^ 
and  that  often  saves  country  people  having  to  send  many 
miles  for  a  doctor." 

12.  "Oh,  I  know,  mamma!  I've  seen  the  old  women 
make  herb  tea  in  the  spring,  only  I  never  thought  you 
meant  that  sort  of  medicine.  Mrs.  Hall  once  asked  me  to 
bring  her  some  ground  ivy  and  chickweed  to  strengthen 
her  eyes  with." 

13.  "  There 's  another  thing  you  've  seen  Mrs.  Hall  do 
with  the  flowers  of  the  field — make  nice  cowslip  wine, 
and   elderberry,  and  oth^r  cordials,  to  warm   up  for   old 


82  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

folks  on  a  winter  night.  Clever  chemists  can  get  beautiful 
colors  and  scents  from  these  little  buds.  The  contents  of 
Frank's  paint-box,  for  instance,  owe  half  their  brightness 
to  the  field  flowers.  His  new  stockings,  of  which  he  seems 
so  proud,  owe  their  color  to  the  indigo  plant.  And  as  to 
you,  Maggie,  almost  all  you  have  on  was  once  part  of  the 
little  blue  flax,  or  linum.  Even  the  threads  which  hold 
your  clothes  together  are  only  the  twisted  fibers  of  the  same 
little  plant.  Indeed,  I  could  number  so  many  things  that 
we  owe  to  the  field  plants,  that  you  would  be  tired  of 
listening. 

14.  "I  have  often  watched  the  habits  of  flowers,  and 
marveled  at  the  differences  between  them.  Almost  all  go 
to  sleep,  more  or  less.  Some  shut  their  leaves  up  at  night, 
and  open  them  in  the  daylight.  This  morning,  when  I 
looked  out,  there  seemed  to  be  not  one  daisy  in  the  fields, 
but  by  breakfast-time  thousands  of  their  little  pink  faces 
were  turned  up,  staring,  open-eyed,  at  the  sun.  They 
always  look  up  early,  as  day^s  eyes  ought  to  do." 

15.  "  Oh,  then,  that 's  why  the  bed  of  tulips  all  look  dead 
at  night,  and  yet  seem  brighter  than  ever  next  morning. 
They  've  only  been  to  sleep,  after  all." 

16.  "  That 's  it ;  and  they  are  in  such  a  hurry  sometimes, 
that  even  flies  or  bees  who  may  be  getting  their  supper 
inside  them  are  shut  up  and  kept  prisoners  till  morning. 
Some  flowers  seem  so  fast  asleep  that  they  hang  their  heads 
and  nod  them  about  as  though  they  might  be  dreaming, 
though  a  few  sleep  at  day  and  only  wake  up  at  night,  like 
the  sweet  evening  primrose. 

17.  "  The  common  yellow  dandelion  shuts  up  if  it  is  too 
warm,  and  its  friend  the  buttercup  drops  its  face  if  it  rains, 
for  fear  of  the  water  settling  in  its  cup  and  spoiling  it; 
while  the  little  scarlet  pimpernel  (which  you  will  find 
about  our  fields  in  any  quantity)  is  called  the  shepherd's 
weather-clock,  because  it  always  foretells  if  rain  or  a  change 
for  wet  weather  is  near.  I  have  often  tried  it,  and  never 
known  it  fail  to  be  right.     It  is  always  open  enough  in 


FLOWERS   AND   THEIR   STORIES.  83 

bright,  clear  weather,  but  covers  its  rosy  face  when  it  sees 
the  clouds  coming." 

18.  "  I  wonder  what  is  the  name  of  the  largest  flower  that 
grows,  and  if  it  is  a  very  big  one.  I  should  like  to  get  one 
for  papa's  button-hole;  he  always  says  I  bring  him  such 
little  ones." 

19.  "To  get  that  you  would  have  to  go  to  India  and 
inquire  for  the  Rafflesia.*  I  think  you  would  be  rather 
astonished  at  its  appearance,  though  you  might  not  like 
the  smell  of  it." 

20.  "  Rafflesia !  what  an  odd  name !  And  has  it  very 
large  leaves  too  ?  " 

21.  "  No ;  one  of  the  remarkable  things  about  it  is  that 
it  has  no  leaves  at  all,  and  leaves,  you  know,  are  the  lungs 
of  flowers ;  without  them  they  can't  breathe.  These  kinds 
of  plants  are  called  parasites,  because,  instead  of  growing 
out  of  the  ground,  they  grow  on  other  plants,  and  breathe 
through  their  leaves. 

22.  "  Well,  this  flower  has  a  long  thin  stem ;  at  one  end 
grows  the  flower,  and  the  other  springs  out  of  a  wild  vine, 
perhaps,  and  twists  and  climbs  in  and  out  among  the  huge 
forest  trees.  Its  buds  look  like  cabbages,  which  go  on 
gradually  enlarging  for  about  three  months,  the  flowers 
expanding  until  they  are  more  than  a  yard  across.  The 
cup  in  the  middle  is  about  a  foot  wide,  and  would  hold 
twelve  pints  of  water  —  rather  a  troublesome  nosegay, 
Maggie,  for  it  weighs  about  fifteen  pounds :  so  it  would 
scarcely  do  for  papa's  button-hole,  though  it  is  so  hand- 

^^^^•''  C.  L.  Matteaux. 

EXERCISE. 

1.  He  chanced  to  pick  up  a  small  cluster  of  violets. 

2.  Apollo,  one  of  the  pagan  gods,  was  playing  at  quoits. 

3.  See,  the  blood  which  recently  has  colored  the  grass. 

4.  I  have  often  observed  the  habits  of  flowers, 

6.  I  have  wondered  at  the  differences  between  them. 
6.  I  think  you  would  be  surprised  at  its  looks. 

*  Pronounced  Raf-fle^-zhe-a. 


84  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

XXIX.— e^r  FBIEJfD  Ijy  THE  WOOD, 
I. 

METHOUGHT  a  thrush  upon  a  tree 
Sweetly  sang  one  day  to  me, 
"  Poet,  poet,  hear  me,  hear  me ! " 
"  Hear  thee,"  I  at  once  repHed ; 
"  Honest  fellow,  ay,  with  pride." 
And  then  he  poured  out  such  a  tide 
Of  joy  to  cheer  me. 

n. 

"  Happy,  happy  bird !  "  said  I, 
"Ever  would  I  linger  by." 
"  Poet,  poet,  hear  me,  hear  me ! " 
Loud  and  louder  yet  he  sang. 
Till  the  distant  woodlands  rang 
With  his  wdld  and  merry  clang, 
And  all  to  cheer  me. 

Capern. 

XXX,— THE  STORY  OF  SOME  HOT  WATER. 

ABOUT  two  hundred  years  ago,  a  man,  bearing  the 
title  of  the  Marquis  of  Worcester,  was  sitting,  on  a 
cold  night,  in  a  small  mean  room,  before  a  blazing  fire. 
This  was  in  Ireland,  and  the  man  was  a  prisoner.  A  kettle 
of  boiling  water  was  on  the  fire,  and  he  sat  watching  the 
steam,  as  it  lifted  the  lid  of  the  kettle  and  rushed  out  of 
the  nose. 

2.  He  thought  of  the  power  of  the  steam,  and  wondered 
what  would  be  the  effect  if  he  were  to  fasten  down  the  lid 
and  stop  up  the  nose.  He  concluded  that  the  effect  would 
be  to  burst  the  kettle.  "  How  much  power,  then,"  thought 
he,  "  there  must  be  in  steam  ! " 

3.  As  soon  as  he  was  let  out  of  prison  he  tried  an  experi- 
ment. "  I  have  taken,"  he  writes,  "  a  cannon,  and  filled 
it  three  quarters  full  of  water,  stopping  firmly  up  both 
the  vent  and  the  mouth,  and,  having  made  a  good  fire 


THE  STORY   OF  SOME   HOT   WATER. 


85 


under  it,  within  twenty-four  hours  it  burst  and  made  a 
great  crack."  After  this,  the  marquis  contrived  a  rude 
machine,  whicli,  by  the  power  of  steam,  drove  up  water  to 
the  height  of  forty  feet. 


4.  About  one  hundred  years  after  this,  a  little  boy,  whose 
name  was  James  Watt,  and  who  lived  in  Scotland,  sat  one 
day  looking  at  a  kettle  of  boiling  water,  and  holding  a 
spoon  before  the  steam  that  rushed  out  of  the  nose. 

5.  His  aunt  thought  he  was  idle,  and  said,  "  Is  it  not  a 
shame  for  you  to  waste  your  time  so?"  But  James  was 
not  idle:  he  was  thinking  of  the  power  of  the  steam  in 
moving  the  spoon. 

6.  James  grew  to  be  a  good  and  great  man,  and  contrived 


86  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

those  wonderful  improvements  in  the  steam-engine  which 
have  made  it  so  useful  in  our  day. 

7.  What  will  not  the  steam-engine  do?  It  propels,  it 
elevates,  it  lowers,  it  pumps,  it  drains,  it  pulls,  it  drives,  it 
blasts,  it  digs,  it  cuts,  it  saws,  it  planes,  it  bores,  it  blows, 
it  forges,  it  hammers,  it  files,  it  polishes,  it  rivets,  it  cards, 
it  spins,  it  winds,  it  weaves,  it  coins,  it  prints ;  and  it  does 
more  things  than  I  can  think  of. 

8.  If  it  could  speak,  it  might  say, — 

"  I  blow  the  bellows,  I  forge  the  steel ; 

I  manage  the  mill  and  the  mint; 
I  hammer  the  ore,  and  turn  the  wheel, 

And  the  news  that  you  read  I  print." 

9.  In  the  year  1807,  Robert  Fulton,  an  American,  put  the 
first  steamboat  on  the  Hudson  River,  and  in  1829  a  loco- 
motive steam-carriage  went  over  a  railroad  in  England. 

10.  And  this  is  the  story  of  some  hot  water.  From  so 
small  a  beginning  as  the  steam  of  a  tea-kettle  resulted  the 
steam-engine,  the  steamboat,  and  the  locomotive  engine,  by 
which  the  trains  of  cars  are  moved  with  such  speed  on  our 
railroads. 

11.  Learn  what  the  power  of  thought  will  do.  How 
many  men  had  looked  at  kettles  of  boiling  water,  but  how 
few  thought  of  the  force  of  the  steam,  and  the  good  uses  to 
which  it  might  be  turned ! 

XXXL— "XC^OZ"  ALOFT." 
I. 

THE  ship-boy  was  clambering  up  the  high  mast, 
When  a  glance  on  the  deck  far  below  him  he  cast; 
His  head  swam  with  fear,  and  thick  came  his  breath, 
"  Look  aloft ! "  cried  a  sailor,  and  saved  him  from  death. 

II. 
So  do  you,  boy— since  up  life's  rough  hill  you  must  go, 
And  see  the  steep  precipice  far  down  below. 
Pause  not  to  gaze  over  it,  raise  up  your  head, 
'  Look  aloft,  look  aloft ! "  and  in  safety  you  '11  tread. 


THE   THREE   COLORS,  87 

III. 
When  you  find  in  yourself  some  low,  petty  desire. 
Feel  cowardly,  weak,  lacking  strength  to  aspire ; 
Take  a  noble  example,  don't  stand  still  and  fret, 
"  Look  aloft,  boy,  aloft ! "  you  may  grow  to  it  yet. 

IV. 
When,  spite  of  all  efforts,  misfortune  shall  come, 
Or  sorrow  shall  darken  your  life  or  your  home; 
Raise  your  head  and  your  heart  with  hope  and  with  prayei 
'  Look  aloft,  look  aloft,  boy ! "  no  sorrow  is  there. 


XXXIL—THE  THREE  COLORS. 

THERE  was  a  quarrel ;  red  and  blue  and  yellow  stood 
in  open  defiance,  each  of  the  other  two. 

2.  "Acknowledge  me  chief!"  said  red.  "I  am  the  em- 
blem of  charity.  All  that  is  warm,  and  redolent  of  comfort 
and  kindness,  is  arrayed  on  my  tints.  I  rest  on  this  rose, 
and  claim  precedence."* 

3.  "  Acknowledge  mg  chief!"  said  blue.  "I  am  the  em- 
blem of  truth.  All  that  is  high  and  pure  and  just  wears 
my  hue.  I  rise  and  shine  from  yonder  sky,  and  claim 
precedence." 

4.  "Acknowledge  me  chief!"  said  yellow.  "I  am  the 
emblem  of  light  and  glory.  Kings  are  crowned,  palaces 
glitter,  with  my  lustrous  color.  Receive  me,  0  Sun!  to 
thee  I  call,  and  claim  precedence." 

5.  "  Ah,  my  children,"  said  the  sun,  "  the  very  heavens 
weep  at  your  disunion.  Be  reconciled,  I  pray,  and  show 
your  strength  of  beauty  where  it  must  ever  be — in  har- 
mony." 

6.  They  rose  at  the  entreaty,  and  embraced  in  the  tearful 
clouds;  and  the  sun  shone  out  on  them,  and  glorious  in 
loveliness  was  the  rainbow  they  made. 

Mrs.  Prosser. 
*  Pronounced  pre-ceed^-ence. 


88  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

XXXIIL— .^  SUMMER  MORJ^IJ^G'S  SOJ^Q 

I. 

UP,  sleeper !  dreamer !  up,  for  now 
There's  gold  upon  the  mountain's  brow^ 
There 's  light  on  forests,  lakes,  and  meadows — 
rhe  dew-drops  shine  on  floweret  bells, 
The  village  clock  of  morning  tells. 
Up,  men !  out,  cattle !  for  the  dells 
And  dingles^  teem  w4th  shadows 

II. 
Up!  to  the  fields!  through  shine  and  shower, 
What  hath  the  dull  and  drowsy  hour 

So  blest  as  this?  the  glad  heart  leaping 
To  hear  morn's  early  song  sublime; 
The  earth  rejoicing  in  its  prime: 
The  summer  is  the  wakii'g  time, 

The  winter  time  for  sleeping. 

III. 
The  very  beast  that  crops  the  flower 
Hath  welcome  for  the  dawning  hour. 

Aurora  smiles!  her  beck'nings  claim  thee; 
Listen — look  round — the  chirp,  the  hum, 
Song,  low,  and  bleat — there 's  nothing  dumb — 
All  love,  all  life.     Come,  slumberer,  come ! 

The  meanest  thing  shall  shame  thee. 


XXXIY.—HALF  THE  PROFIT, 

A  NOBLEMAN,  who  resided  at  a  castle  a  long  wa^ 
from  the  sea-shore,  was  about  to  celebrate  his  mar- 
riage feast.  There  was  abundance  of  meats,  game,  and 
fruits,  for  the  important  occasion,  but  no  fish,  as  the  sea 
had  been  very  boisterous. 

2.  On  the  very  morning  of  the  feast,  however,  a  poor  fish- 
erman made  his  appearance  with  a  large  turbot.     Joy  was 
in  the  castle,  and  the  fisherman  was  brought  with  his  prize 
*  Dingles — dales  or  valleys. 


HALF   THE    PROFIT.  89 

into  the  saloon  where  the  nobleman  stood  in  the  presence 
of  his  visitors. 

3.  "  A  fine  fish,"  said  the  nobleman.  "  Fix  your  own 
price ;  you  shall  be  paid  at  once.    How  much  do  you  ask  ?  " 

4.  "  Not  a  penny,  my  lord ;  I  will  not  take  money.  One 
hundred  lashes  on  my  bare  back  is  the  price  of  my  fish.  I 
will  not  abate  one  lash  from  the  number." 

5.  The  nobleman  and  his  guests  were  not  a  little  aston- 
ished, but  the  fisherman  was  resolute ;  they  reasoned  with 
him  in  vain. 

6.  At  length  the  nobleman  exclaimed,  "  Well,  well,  this 
fellow  has  a  strange  whim,  but  the  fish  we  must  have.  But 
lay  on  lightly,  and  let  the  price  be  paid  in  our  presence." 

7.  After  fifty  lashes  had  been  given,  "  Hold,  hold ! "  ex- 
claimed the  fisherman ;  "  I  have  a  partner  in  this  business, 
and  it  is  right  that  he  should  receive  his  share." 

8.  "  What !  are  there  two  such  fools  in  the  world  ? "  ex- 
claimed the  nobleman.  "  Where  is  he  to  be  found  ?  Name 
him,  and  he  shall  be  sent  for  instantly." 

9.  "  You  need  not  go  far  for  him,"  said  the  fisherman ; 
"  you  will  find  him  at  your  own  gate,  in  the  shape  of  your 
own  porter.  He  would  not  admit  me  until  I  promised  that 
he  should  have  half  of  whatever  I  should  get  for  my 
turbot." 

10.  "  Oh,  oh,"  said  the  nobleman,  "  bring  him  up  in- 
stantly ;  he  shall  certainly  receive  his  half  with  the  strictest 
justice ! " 

11.  The  porter  was  accordingly  brought,  and  had  to  sub- 
mit to  his  share  of  the  bargain.  He  was  then  discharged 
from  the  nobleman's  service,  and  the  fisherman  was  amply 
rewarded.  

EXERCISE. 

1.  The  sea  has  been  very  stormy. 

2.  A  fisherman  came  with  a  halibut. 

3.  He  was  brought  with  his  fish  into  the  reception-roorri. 

4.  I  will  not  lessen  one  stroke  from  the  number. 

5.  This  person  has  a  queer  notion. 


90  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

XXXN.—J\rAMIJfG  THE  SHIP. 
Child  and  Boatman. 

Boatman.  Look  you  now, 

This  vessel 's  off  the  stocks,  a  tidy  craft. 

Child.    A  schooner,  Martin? 

Boatman.  No,  boy,  no ;  a  brig, 

Only  she's  schooner-rigged, — a  lovely  craft. 

Child.    Is  she  for  me  ?    Oh,  thank  you,  Martin,  dear ! 
What  shall  I  call  her? 

Boatman.  Well,  sir,  what  you  please 

Child.    Then  write  on  her  "The  Eagle." 

Boatman.  Bless  the  child! 

Eagle !  why,  you  know  naught  of  eagles,  you. 
When  we  lay  off  the  coast,  up  Canada  way, 
And  chanced  to  be  ashore  when  twilight  fell, 
That  was  the  place  for  eagles;  bald  they  were, 
With  eyes  as  yellow  as  gold. 

Child.  Oh,  Martin,  dear. 

Tell  me  about  them. 

Boatman.  Tell!  there's  naught  to  tell. 

Only  they  snored  o'  nights  and  frighted  us. 
Child.    Snored? 

Boatman.  Ay,  I  tell  you,  snored ;  they  slept  upright 

In  the  great  oaks  by  scores ;  as  true  as  time. 
If  I  'd  had  aught  upon  my  mind  just  then, 
I  wouldn't  have  walked  that  wood  for  unknown  gold; 
It  was  most  awful.    When  the  moon  was  full, 
I  've  seen  them  fish  at  night,  in  the  middle  watch, 
When  she  got  low.    I've  seen  them  plunge  like  stones. 
And  come  up  fighting  with  a  fish  as  long. 
Ay,  longer  than  my  arm ;  and  they  would  sail 
Over  the  deck,  and  show  their  fell,  fierce  eyes, 
And  croon  for  pleasure,  hug  their  prey,  and  speed 
Grand  as  a  frigate  on  a  wind. 

Child.  My  ship, 

She  must  be  called  "The  Eagle"  after  these. 

Jean  Ingelow. 


THE   PET   FAWN. 


91 


XXXVL—TRE  FET  FA  W'jY. 

IN  the  western  part  of  New  York,  many  years  ago,  before 
that  part  of  the  country  was  as  thickly  settled  as  now, 
my  father  lived  in  a  little  square  house  just  on  the  border 
of  the  woods.  People  used  to  hunt  a  great  deal  in  those 
woods. 

2.  One  day  when  my  father  was  hunting  the  deer,  he 
suddenly  came  upon  a  little  fawn  asleep.  He  went  towards? 
it  very  softly,  and  succeeded  in  getting  hold  of  the  little 
fellow  before  he  had  time  to  escape. 

3.  He  carried  it  home  in  his  arms,  and,  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  the  fawn  did  not  appear  much  alarmed ;  and  after  a 
few  days  of  petting  and  care,  he  was  as  much  at  home  in 
my  father's  house  as  he  could  have  been  in  the  woods. 


92  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

4.  He  was  of  a  beautiful  fawn  color,  with  a  white  spot 
on  his  breast,  and  my  father  used  to  say  he  wore  white 
stockings.  He  had  a  most  affectionate,  loving  nature, 
and  was  devoted  to  my  father,  following  him  wherever  he 
went. 

5.  It  seemed  strange  that  he  should  care  so  much  more 
for  his  master  than  for  any  one  else,  for  my  mother  took 
almost  the  entire  care  of  him,  and  was  the  one  who  always 
fed  him.  But,  notwithstanding,  neither  she  nor  any  one 
else  could  ever  call  him  away  from  my  father. 

6.  He  would  play  with  my  mother  in  the  garden,  and 
run  after  her  from  room  to  room  if  his  master  was  away ; 
but  as  soon  as  he  appeared,  the  fawn  seemed  to  consider  it 
his  duty  to  remain  near  him,  and  he  would  only  leave  my 
father  long  enough  to  get  his  supper  and  at  once  return. 

7.  Sunday  mornings  the  fawn  was  always  shut  up  at 
church-time,  for  fear  he  might  follow  his  master.  Gene- 
rally he  appeared  quite  satisfied  with  the  society  of  the 
family ;  but  once  in  a  while  he  would  seem  to  remember 
that  his  own  family  lived  in  the  wood,  and  would  evi- 
dently feel  a  desire  to  visit  them. 

8.  So  he  would  spend  sometimes  the  whole  day  in  the 
wood,  but  always  came  home  before  my  father  did. 
Almost  always  some  two  or  three  of  the  wild  deer  would 
escort  him,  on  his  way  home,  as  far  as  the  edge  of  the 
wood,  quite  within  sight  of  the  house.  But  they  never 
ventured  fairly  out  of  the  forest. 

9.  Sometimes  it  seemed  almost  as  if  the  fawn  was  urging 
his  friends  to  visit  him.  He  would  play  with  them,  just 
inside  the  wood,  every  now  and  then  springing  out  into  the 
road,  and  then  standing  and  waiting  for  them.  But  the 
others  evidently  did  not  da're  to  follow,  though  often  they 
seemed  quite  undecided  whether  they  should  or  not. 

10.  Father  felt  sure  some  day  he  would  bring  one  of  the 
little  creatures  home  with  him,  but  I  never  heard  of  one's 
coming. 

11.  Father  bought  him  a  pretty  collar,  with  a  small  silvei 


THE   PET   FAWN.  93 

bell  attached  to  it,  so  you  could  hear  the  little  fellow  long 
before  you  could  see  him. 

12.  One  Sunday  morning,  before  going  to  church,  my 
father,  as  usual,  called  the  fawn,  to  shut  him  up.  But  the 
little  fellow  was  nowhere  to  be  found,  and  though  my  father 
went  some  distance  down  the  road  and  listened,  he  could 
not  hear  the  bell.  So  he  decided  the  fawn  must  be  visiting 
his  fawn  friends,  though  this  was  the  first  Sunday  he  had 
left  his  master  to  go  off  anywhere. 

13.  The  family  went  to  church,  however,  without  giving 
the  faAvn  another  thought.  It  being  a  very  warm  day,  the 
church-doors  were  all  fastened  wide  open.  In  the  middle 
of  a  long  and  rather  dull  sermon,  my  father  was  aroused  by 
the  sound,  in  the  dim  distance,  of  the  little  silver  bell. 

14.  Nearer  and  nearer  it  came,  and  soon  the  congregation 
heard  it,  and  still  nearer  it  came.  To  the  church-steps — to 
the  door — and  finally  the  tinkling  of  the  little  bell  sounded 
up  the  broad  aisle. 

15.  The  pews  in  those  days  were  made  so  high  that  it 
was  impossible  to  see  over  them.  So  no  one  but  my  dis- 
mayed father  could  imagine  what  the  disturbance  was  ;  he, 
poor  man,  knew  but  too  well.  However,  he  could  do 
nothing  but  sit  still  and  wait  for  the  result. 

16.  On  the  little  fellow  came,  till  he  found  his  master's 
pew,  and  as  the  door  happened  to  be  open,  he  walked  in. 
and  lay  down  quietly  at  my  father's  feet,  feeling  perfectly 
satisfied. 

17.  And  after  that  he  would  disappear  every  Sunday 
morning,  so  that  it  was,  of  course,  impossible  to  confine 
him.  But  he  always  went  to  church.  Sometimes  my 
father  would  find  the  fawn  in  quiet  possession  of  his  pew 
when  he  himself  arrived. 

18.  The  sexton,  one  Sunday,  not  approving  of  the  per- 
formance, tried  to  put  the  little  creature  out.  But  the  fawn 
made  such  a  fuss,  and  jumped  about  so  much,  and  the 
bell  tinkled  so  loudly,  that  he  was  obliged  to  give  up  the 
attempt. 


94  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

19.  From  that  time  forward  he  became  a  most  devoted 
church-goer,  and  it  was  an  understood  thing  that  the  fawn 
belonged  to  that  church.  Although  I  am  afraid  he  took 
manj^  naps  during  the  service  and  sermon,  in  all  other 
respects  he  behaved  as  well  as  any  gentleman  in  the  con 
gregation. 

,  20.  The  fawn  lived  with  my  father  about  two  years.  His 
visits  to  the  forest  became  more  and  more  frequent,  how- 
ever, until  at  last  he  never  returned  to  the  house.  Whether 
his  friends  there  persuaded  him  to  remain  with  them,  or 
whether  he  was  shot  for  a  wild  deer,  my  father  could  never 
find  out.  But  he  was  much  missed  by  all  the  family,  and 
even  the  minister  asked  what  had  become  of  him. 

E.  Johnson. 


XXXVII.— r^^  WIMD  AJfD  THE  MO  OK. 

I. 

SAID  the  Wind  to  the  Moon,  "  I  will  blow  you  out. 
You  stare  in  the  air 
Like  a  ghost  in  a  chair, 
Always  looking  what  I  am  about. 
I  hate  to  be  watched;  I  will  blow  you  out." 

n. 

The  Wind  blew  hard,  and  out  went  the  Moon. 

So,  deep  on  a  heap 

Of  clouds,  to  sleep 
Down  lay  the  Wind,  and  slumbered  soon- 
Muttering  low,  "  I  've  done  for  that  Moon." 

in. 
He  turned  in  his  bed:  she  was  there  again. 

On  high  in  the  sky, 

With  her  one  ghost  eye, 
The  Moon  shone  white  and  alive  and  plain. 
Said  the  Wind,  "  I  will  blow  you  out  again.'' 


THE  WIND  AND  THE  MOON.  95 

IV. 

The  Wind  blew  hard,  and  the  Moon  grew  dim. 

"With  my  sledge  and  my  wedge 

1  have  knocked  off  her  edge. 
If  only  I  blow  right  fierce  and  grim, 
The  creature  will  soon  be  dimmer  than  dim." 

V. 

He  blew  and  he  blew,  and  she  thinned  to  a  thread 

"One  puff  more's  enough 

To  blow  her  to  snuff! 
One  good  puff  more  where  the  last  was  bred. 
And  glimmer,  glimmer  glum  will  go  the  thread." 

VI. 

He  blew  a  great  blast, and  the  thread  was  gone; 

In  the  air  nowhere 

Was  a  moonbeam  bare; 
Far  off  and  harmless  the  shy  stars  shone; 
Sure  and  certain  the  Moon  was  gone! 

VII. 

The  Wind  he  took  to  his  revels  once  more; 

On  down,  in  town, 

Like  a  merry-mad  clown. 
He  leaped   and  holloed  with  whistle  and  roar, 
"What's  that?"    The  glimmering  thread  once  more. 

VIII. 

He  flew  in  a  rage — he  danced  and  blew; 

But  in  vain  was  the  pain 

Of  his  bursting  brain; 
For  still  the  broader  the  moon-scrap  grew. 
The  broader  he  swelled  his  big  cheeks  and  blew. 

rx. 
Slowly  she  grew — till  she  filled  the  night, 

And  shone  on  her  throne 

In  the  sky  alone, 
A  matchless,  wonderful,  silvery  light, 
Radiant  and  lovely,  the  queen  of  the  night. 


9b  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

X. 

Said  the  Wind :  "  What  a  marvel  of  power  am  1 ! 

With  my  breath,  good  faith, 

I  blew  her  to  death — 
First  blew  her  away  right  out  of  the  sky- 
Then  blew  her  in;  what  a  strength  am  I!" 

XI. 

But  the  Moon  she  knew  nothing  about  the  affair, 

For,  high  in  the  sky. 

With  her  one  white  eye, 
Motionless  miles  above  the  air. 
She  had  never  heard  the  great  Wind  blare. 

Geo.  Macdonale. 


XXXVIII.— r^^  J^AIL-MAKER. 

A  LABORIOUS  nail-maker  worked  all  day  at  his 
forge,  and  under  his  strong,  quick  blows,  thousands 
of  sparks  arose  around  him  and  filled  his  workshop.  The 
son  of  his  rich  neighbor,  Mr.  Von  Berg,  came  to  see  him 
almost  every  day,  and  would  w-atch  him  with  delight  for 
hours. 

2.  One  day  the  busy  nail-maker  said  to  him  in  joke, 
"  Would  you  not  like  to  make  some  nails  ?  Just  try,  my 
young  master,  if  it  be  only  to  pass  time  awa3^  It  may  be 
useful  to  you  some  day." 

3.  The  young  gentleman,  having  nothing  else  to  do,  con- 
sented. He  placed  himself  before  the  anvil,  and,  laughing 
as  he  sat  down,  began  to  hammer.  Before  very  long  he 
was  able  to  finish  off  a  good  shoe-nail. 

4.  Some  years  after,  the  misfortunes  of  war  deprived  this 
young  man  of  all  his  wealth,  and  forced  him  to  emigrate  to 
a  foreign  country.  Far  from  his  native  land,  stripped  of 
all  resources,  he  halted  at  a  large  village,  where  the  majority 
of  the  people  were  shoemakers. 

5.  He  ascertained  that  they  expended  yearly  a  large  sum 
of  money  in  the  purchase  of  shoe-nails  from  a  neighboring 


THE   WATER.  97 

town,  and  that  often  they  could  not  obtain  the  quantity 
they  needed,  because  so  many  were  required  for  the  shoes 
of  the  army,  most  of  which  were  made  in  that  district. 

6.  The  young  Von  Berg,  who  already  saw  himself  threat- 
ened with  starvation,  remembered  that  he  knew  perfectly 
the  art  of  making  shoe-nails.  He  offered  to  supply  the 
shoemakers  of  the  village  with  as  large  a  quantity  of  nails 
as  they  required,  if  they  would  only  establish  a  workshop, 
and  to  this  they  cheerfully  consented.  He  began  to  work 
with  enthusiasm,  and  soon  found  himself  in  easy  circum* 
stances. 

7.  "  It  is  always  good,"  he  used  often  to  say  to  himself, 
"to  learn  something,  if  it  be  only  to  make  a  shoe-nail. 
There  are  positions  in  life  where  head-learning  cannot  be 
called  into  play,  and  where  want  may  threaten  even  those 
who  have  been  wealthy.  It  is  well  to  provide  for  such 
exigencies  oy  having  some  useful  trade  at  our  finger  ends.'" 


XXXIX.—THE  WATER. 
I. 

THE  water!  the  water! 
The  joyous  brook  for  me, 
That  tuneth  through  the  quiet  night 

Its  ever-living  glee 
The  water!  the  water! 

That  sleepless,  merry  heart 
Which  gurgles  on  unstintedly, 

And  loveth  to  impart, 
To  all  around  it,  some  small  measure 
Of  its  own  most  perfect  pleasure- 

n. 

The  water!  the  water! 

The  gentle  stream  for  me. 
That  gushes  from  the  old  gray  stone 

Beside  the  alder  tree. 


98  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

The  water!  the  water! 

That  ever-bubbUng  spring 
I  loved  and  looked  on  when  a  child. 

In  deepest  wondering, — 
And  asked  it  whence  it  came  and  went 
*'  And  when  its  treasures  would  be  spent. 

in. 
The  water!  the  water! 

The  merry  wanton  brook 
That  bent  itself  to  pleasure  me, 

Like  mine  old  shepherd  crook. 
The  water!  the  water! 

That  sang  so  sweet  at  noon, 
And  sweeter  still  all  night,  to  win 

Smiles  from  the  pale  proud  moon, 
And  from  the  little  fairy  faces 
That  gleam  in  heaven's  remotest  places. 

IV. 
The  water!  the  water! 

The  dear  and  blessed  thing. 
That  all  day  fed  the  little  flowers 

On  its  banks  blossoming. 
The  water!  the  water! 

That  roird  so  bright  and  free, 
And  bade  me  mark  how  beautiful 

Was  its  soul's  purity; 
And  how  it  glanced  to  heaven  its  wave. 
As,  wandering  on,  it  sought  its  grave. 

■     MOTHERWEIA 


EXERCISE. 

1.  The  brook  singeth  through  the  still  night. 

2.  It  flows  on  freely. 

3.  It  loves  to  give  happiness  to  all  around  it. 

4.  The  merry  playful  brook  curved  to  please  me. 

5.  Fairy  faces  skine  in  heaven's  most  distant  places. 

6.  The  water  fed  the  tiny  flowers  blooming  on  its  banks 

7.  Wandering  on,  it  sought  its)?naZ  resting-pUice. 


A   WONDERFUL   PARROT.  90 

XL.— A   WOJVDEBFUL  PARROT, 

MR.  JESSE,  an  English  writer  upon  natural  history, 
tells  of  an  extraordinary  parrot,  which  war.  owned 
by  a  lady  in  Hampton  Court.  He  made  inquiry  about  it 
of  the  owner's  sister,  and  received  from  her  the  following 
account,  which  he  gives  in  her  own  words : 

2.  "As  you  wished  me,"  she  says,  "to  write  down  what- 
ever I  could  collect  about  my  sister's  wonderful  parrot,  I 
proceed  to  do  so,  only  promising  that  I  will  tell  you  nothing 
but  what  I  can  vouch  for  having  myself  heard. 

3.  "  Her  laugh  is  quite  extraordinary,  and  it  is  impossible 
to  help  joining  in  it  one's  self,  more  especially  when  in  the 
midst  of  it  she  cries  out  '  Don't  make  me  laugh  so !  I  shall 
die!  I  shall  die!' 

4.  "  Her  crying  and  sobbing  are  curious ;  and  if  you  say 
'  Poor  Poll,  what  is  the  matter  ? '  she  says,  '  So  bad,  so  bad ; 
got  such  a  cold!'  Then  after  crying  some  time  she  will 
gradually  cease,  and,  making  a  noise  like  drawing  a  long 
breath,  say,  '  Better  now,'  and  begin  to  laugh. 

5.  "  The  first  time  I  ever  heard  her  speak  was  one  day 
when  I  was  talking  with  the  maid  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs.  I  heard  what  I  then  supposed  to  be  a  child  call  out 
the  maid's  name,  '  Payne ! '  and  then  saying  '  I  'm  not  well ; 
I'm  not  well.'  I  asked  'What  is  the  matter  with  that 
child?'  She  replied, 'It  is  only  the  parrot;  she  always 
does  so  when  I  leave  her  alone,  to  make  me  come  back.* 
And  so  it  proved,  for  on  her  going  into  the  room  the  parrot 
stopped,  and  then  began  laughing  quite  in  a  jeering  way. 

6.  "  It  is  singular  enough  that,  whenever  she  is  affronted 
in  any  way  she  begins  to  cry,  and  when  pleased,  to  laugh. 
If  any  one  happens  to  cough  or  sneeze,  she  says,  '  What  a 
bad  cold ! ' 

7.  "  One  day,  when  the  children  were  playing  with  her, 
the  maid  came  into  the  room,  and  on  their  repeating  to  her 
several  things  which  the  parrot  had  said.  Poll  looked  up, 
and  said  quite  plainly,  '  No,  I  didn't.' 


100  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

8.  "  Sometimes,  when  she  is  inclined  to  be  mischievous^ 
the  maid  threatens  to  beat  her,  and  she  often  says,  ^  No,  you 
won't.' 

9.  "  She  calls  the  cat  very  plainly,  saying  ^  Puss,  Puss !  * 
and  then  answers  '  Mew.'  But  the  most  amusing  part  is, 
that  whenever  I  want  to  make  her  call  it,  and  to  that  pur- 
pose say  '  Puss,  Puss ! '  myself,  she  always  answers  '  Mew,' 
till  I  begin  mewing,  and  then  she  begins  calling  '  Puss '  as 
quick  as  possible. 

10.  "  She  imitates  every  kind  of  noise,  and  barks  so  natu- 
rally that  I  have  known  her  to  set  all  the  dogs  on  the 
parade  at  Hampton  Court  barking,  and  I  dare  say,  if  the 
truth  was  known,  wondering  what  was  barking  at  them. 
And  the  consternation  I  have  seen  her  cause  in  a  party  of 
hens  by  her  crowing  and  clucking,  has  been  the  most  ludi- 
crous thing  possible. 

11.  "  She  sings  just  like  a  child,  and  I  have  more  than 
once  thought  it  was  a  human  being.  It  is  most  ridiculous 
to  hear  her  make  what  one  would  call  a  false  note,  and  then 
say  'Oh,  la!'  and  burst  out  laughing  herself,  beginning 
again  in  quite  another  key. 

12.  "  She  is  very  fond  of  singing  '  Buy  a  broom ! '  which 
she  says  quite  plainly.  But  in  the  same  spirit  as  in  calling 
the  cat,  if  we  say  with  a  view  to  make  her  repeat  it,  '  Buy  a 
broom ! '  she  always  says  '  Buy  a  brush  I '  and  then  laughs  as 
a  child  might  do  when  mischievous. 

13.  "  She  often  performs  a  kind  of  exercise  which  I  do 
not  know  how  to  describe,  except  by  saying  that  it  is  like 
the  lance  exercise.  She  puts  her  claw  behind  her,  first  one 
side  and  then  on  the  other,  then  in  front,  and  round  over 
her  head,  and  whilst  doing  so,  keeps  saying  '  Come  on,  come 
on ! '  and  when  finished,  says  '  Bravo !  beautiful ! '  and  draws 
herself  up. 

14.  "  Before  I  was  as  well  acquainted  with  her  as  I  am 
now,  she  would  stare  in  my  face  for  some  time,  and  then 
say  '  How  d'  ye  do,  ma'am  ? '  This  she  invariably  does  to 
strangers. 


THE   SUMMER   SQuklj^t  '.  :  \  ,'  .' '  \  COJ 

15.  "  One  day  I  went  into  the  i-obi^^  wh(p'e;^i8^^&^  aiid. 
said,  to  try  her,  'Poll,  where  is  Pajiie  ^oAe  ? '  arid'' to 'liiy 
astonishment,  and  almost  dismay,  she  said  '  Down  stairs.' 

16.  "  I  cannot  at  this  moment  recollect  anything  more 
that  I  can  vouch  for  myself,  and  do  not  choose  to  trust  to 
what  I  am  told ;  but  from  what  I  have  myself  seen  and 
heard,  she  has  almost  made  me  a  believer  in  transmigra- 
tion." 


XLI.—THE  SUMMER  SQUALL. 
I. 

WHAT'S  the  matter  ? 
What  a  clatter! 
Was  there  ever 
Such  a  terrible — I  never! 
Run  and  shut  the  chamber  windows! 
Jenny,  keep  the  children  in-doors ! 
The  clothes  upon  the  line  go  dancing — 
Where's  the  basket?    Bring  the  pans  in! 
Oh  dear!"     For  now  the  rain  is  coming; 
You  hear  the  chimney  swallows  drumming, 
With  a  mighty  fuss  and  flutter, 
While  the  chimneys  moan  and  mutter; 
And  see!  the  crumbled  soot  is  flying 
All  over  the  pork  that  Jane  was  frying. 

II. 
What  a  clamor!  what  a  clatter! 
The  swift,  slant  rain  begins  to  patter; 
The  geese  they  cackle,  cow-bells  rattle, 
The  pelted  and  affrighted  cattle. 
Across  the  pasture,  helter-skelter. 
Run  to  the  nearest  trees  tor  shelter; 
The  old  hen  calls  her  skulking  chickens; 
The  fowls  fly  home;  the  darkness  thickens,' 
The  roadside  maples  twist  and  swing; 
The  barn-door  flaps  a  broken  wing; 
The  old  well-pail  sets  out  to  travel, 
And  drags  the  chain  across  the  gravel; 


jm^  FOTJRTH  READER. 

;1^'V^ht5;the  fiiriiieVs  wife  is  trying 
'Td'catcli^the'clotlies  as  they  are  flying; 
Nine  new  tin  pans  are  bruised  and  battered, 
And  all  about  the  door-yard  scattered; 
And  thicker,  thicker,  faster,  faster, 
Come  tumult,  tempest,  and  disaster. 

ni. 

The  wind  has  blown  the  haycocks  over; 
The  rain  has  spoiled  the  unraked  clover; 
With  half  a  load  the  horses  hurry. 
And  one-half — flung  on  in  the  flurry, 
Invisible  pitchforks  tearing,  tossing — 
Was  blown  into  the  creek  in  crossing; 
And  thicker,  thicker,  faster,  faster. 
Come  whirlwind,  tempest,  and  disaster. 


IV. 

Now,  all  without  the  storm  is  roaring, 

The  house  is  shut,  the  rain  is  pouring ; 

Incessantly  its  fury  lashes 

The  roof,  the  clapboards,  and  the  sashes ; 

The  fowls  have  gone  to  roost  at  noon. 

We'll  have  the  candles  lighted  soon. 

In  flies  the  door, — the  farmer  enters. 

Dripping  and  drenched  from  his  adventures; 

Finds  Jenny  sighing,  baby  crying. 

The  frightened  children  hushed,  and  lying 

Huddled  upon  the  bed  together; 

Mother   storming,  like  the  weather; 

With  pans,  and  chairs,  and  baskets,  which  in 

Wet  confusion  crowd  the  kitchen. 

V. 

But  Hugh  is  not  the  man  to  grieve; 

He  shakes  his  hat,  and  strokes  his  sleeve, 

And  laughs,  and  jests,  and  wrings  his  blouse:- 

His  very  presence  in  the  house 

Dispels  like  sunshine  the  bewildering 

Ind  awful  gloom  that  wrapped  the  childreA. 


HONEST   JACOB.  103 

VI. 
Old  Farmer  Hugh!  the  whole  world  through, 
I  find  no  nobler  soul  than  you ! 
A  heart  to  welcome  every  comer, 
Alike  the  winter  and  the  summer. 
When  Fortune,  with  her  fickle  chances, 
Now  smiles,  now  frowns,  retreats,  advances, 
To  make  poor  mortals  mourn  the  loss  of  her, 
You,  trustful  heart  and  true  philosopher, 
Securely  centered  in  your  station. 
Yourself  the  pivot  of  gyration, 
Look  forth  serenely  patient,  seeing 
All  things  come  round  to  your  true  being. 

VII. 

Oh  thus,  like  you,  when  sudden  squalls 
Of  angry  fortune  strike  my  walls. 
Spoil  expectation's  unraked  clover. 
And  blow  my  hopes  like  haycocks  over, — 
When  storm  and  darkness,  wild,  uncertain, 
Deluge  my  sky  with  their  black  curtain, — 
Oh  then,  like  you,  brave  Farmer  Hugh ! 
May  I,  with  vision  clear  and  true, 
Behold,  beyond  each  transient  sorrow. 
The  gleam  and  gladness  of  to-morrow! 

J.  T.  Tkowbridge. 


mAl.—HOJVEST  JACOB. 

Jacob,  a  poor  laboring  man.    Fritz,  his  son  (a  small  boy).    ADA>r 
a  baker. 

Scene. — The  poor  man's  cottage.    Enter  Fritz. 

Fritz.     How  I  wish  father  would  come  home !     I  am  so 
hungry  I     0,  here  he  comes  I 

[Jacob  enters^  bringing  a  loaf  of  bread."] 

Jacob.    Here  I  am,  little  Fritz ! 

Fritz.    I  am  so  glad  !     It  is  so  lonesome  here  since  dear 
mother  died!    And  I — 


104  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

Jacob.  You  are  very  hungry  ?  I  know  it,  my  poor  boy. 
It  wasn't  so  when  there  was  plenty  of  work  to  be  had.  I 
hope  these  hard  times  will  soon  be  over ;  but  we  must  do 
the  best  we  can  while  they  last. 

Fritz.    O  what  a  nice  loaf  you  have !  how  good  it  smells. 

Jacob  iadde).  It  is  the  last !  There's  no  knowing  when 
we  shall  have  another.  Here,  my  son  {breaks  the  loaf)  j  eat 
your  supper  at  once.  There's  no  loss  without  some  gain ; 
we  don't  have  to  wait  for  cooking  when  we've  nothing  to 
cook! 

Fritz.    O  father !  this  isn't  fair ! 

Jacob.    What  isn't  fair,  my  son  ? 

FHtz.    You  have  given  me  the  biggest  piece. 

Jacob.  And  is  that  anything  to  complain  of?  Come,  eat, 
my  boy. 

Fritz.  But  you — you  have  been  looking  for  work  all  day ; 
you  must  be  so  tired !  and  I  know  you  have  had  nothing 
to  eat. 

Jacob.  Ah,  my  Fritz !  you  are  so  good  to  think  of  me ! 
But,  really,  it  will  do  me  more  good  to  see  you  eat  than  to 
eat  myself. 

FVitz.  But  if  you  do  not  eat,  how  can  you  go  out  hunting 
for  work  to-morrow  ?  and  if  you  find  work  to  do,  how  can 
you  do  it  ?  You  must  have  a  part  of  this ;  do  break  it  again, 
father ! 

Jacob.  Well,  to  please  you,  I  will ;  though  your  love  is 
dearer  to  me  than  any  food. 

{^Breaks  Fritz's  piece.    Several  'pieces  of  money  fall  out. 

Fritz.  Why,  what  is  that  falling  out  of  the  bread  ?  Gold ! 
0  father !  gold ! 

Jacob.    Do  not  touch  it !     That  money  is  n't  ours. 

Fritz.    Whose  is  it,  then  ?     Gold !  O  father ! 

Jacob.  Surely,  I  don't  know  whose  it  can  be;  I  only 
know  it  is  n't  mine.  We  must  inquire.  Bun  to  the  baker's, 
and  ask  him  about  it.     Quick,  my  son. 

Fritz.  But,  father,  we  are  so  poor !  And  did  n't  you  buy 
the  loaf? 


HONEST  JACOB. 


105 


Jacob.  I  bought  the  loaf,  but  I  did  not  buy  the  gold  in 
it.  We  are  poor,  indeed ;  but  that  is  no  reason  why  we 
should  be  dishonest. 

Fritz.  Dear  father,  you  are  right,  I  know !  I  '11  hurry  to 
tell  the  baker.  [Runs  out 


Jacob  yabne).     Ah,  my  poor  Fritz !     It  is  hard  to  see  you 
starve,  but  it  would  be  harder  still  to  see  you  thrive  by 
falsehood  and  dishonesty !     I  am  sure  God  will  take  care 
of  us,  if  we  are  faithful  to  Him  and  to  each  other. 
[Re-enter  Fritz,  with  Adam,  the  Baker.^ 

Fritz.     Here  he  is,  father!     I  have  told  him  about  the 
money. 

Jacob.    There  is  some  great  mistake  here,  my  friend.     Is 
this  your  gold  ? 

Fritz.     0  Mister  Baker !  my  father  is  very  poor  I 


106  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

Jacob,     Be  still,  Fritz !     We  are  not  thieves,  neither  are 
we  beggars.     Take  this  gold  away,  if  it  is  yours. 

Adam.  {Rubbing  his  hands  gleefully.)     Ay  !  I  told  him  so  I 
I  told  him  so ! 
Jacob.     Told  whom?  told  what? 

Adam.    Uncle  Luke,  the  wheelwright.    I  told  him — said 
I,  '  Neighbor  Jacob  is  the  most  honest  man  in  town,'  said  I. 
And  said  he,  '  There  you're  right,  Adam,'  said  he.    Ay,  ay  I 
and  so  it  turns  out. 
Jacob.    I  don't  understand  you. 

Adam.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  that  money.  A  stranger 
brought  it  to  me  yesterday,  and  told  me  to  give  it  to  the 
most  honest  poor  man  in  town.  I  knew  you  would  come 
for  a  loaf  this  evening,  so  I  baked  one  for  you,  and  put  the 
gold  into  it.  It  is  yours ;  you  have  shown  by  your  honesty 
that  you  are  entitled  to  it,  if  any  one  is. 
Jacob.     0  my  son !  \_Embraces  Fritz. 

Adam.  And  what  is  more,  he  left  this  card  with  me,  say- 
ing "  When  your  honest  man  is  found,  tell  him  to  find  me, 
and  I  will  give  him  good  work  and  good  wages."  Here  is 
his  name. 

Jacob.  (Takes  the  card.)  Work !  and  wages  !  that  is  better 
than  gold !  Thank  you.  Friend  Adam !  Come,  Fritz,  we 
will  find  this  good  man  at  once ;  we  '11  eat  our  bread  by  the 
way.  Thank  Heaven,  that  kept  us  honest,  we  shall  soon 
have  bread  enough. 


XLIIL— ^  DAT  IJV  EARLY  HAY-TIME, 
I. 

SMALL  watery  clouds  begin  to  rise,  before  the  midday  hour, 
And  beaded  drops  on  water-jars  foretell  an  early  shower. 
The  house-dog  seeks  his  favorite  grass  while  coming  down  the 

lane, 
And  tree-toads  in  the  poplar  bowers  are  prophesying  rain. 
The  quail  since  early  morning  hours  has  piped  his  song,  "  More 

wet!" 
And  cuckoos  in  the  maple  grove  are  singing  "  Cuckoo ! "  yet. 


A   DAY  IN   EAELY   HAT-TIME.  107 

n. 

The  mower  drops  his  scythe,  and  wipes  the  sweat  from  off  his 

brow ; 
Two  loads  of  choicest  clover  hay  are  ready  for  the  mow. 
"  Be  quick  and  get  the  ox-team,  John !     Frank,  harness  up  Old 

Gray! 
And  James  may  leave  off  spreading  swaths,  and  tumble  up  the 

hay." 

in. 
A  dark  cloud  with  its  watery  folds  now  meets  the  farmer's  eye. 
And  mutterings  indistinct  are  heard  along  the  western  sky. 
Soon  John  comes  hurrying  to  the  field,  with  "  Get  up.  Star !  gee, 

Bright ! " 
The  stalwart  form  of  Farmer  Day  is  almost  lost  to  sight. 

IV. 

The  hay  goes  on  the  rick  so  fast  that  John  cries,  "  Father,  stop, 
And  let  me  lay  the  corners  out  and  bind  them  at  the  top ! " 
"  Be  quick,  then,  for  the  shower  is  nigh ! — 't  will  never  do  to  let 
This  clover  hay,  so  sweet  and  dry,  be  spoilt  by  getting  wet." 

V. 
And  standing  in  the  grateful  shade  beneath  the  apple-bough. 
The  farmer  wipes  the  sweat  again  from  off  his  heated  brow. 
One  load  is  safely  in  the  barn,  and  one  upon  the  wain, 
While  just  across  the  meadow-lot  comes  on  the  drifting  rain. 

VI. 

A  large  drop  falls  upon  the  hat,  another  on  the  hand. 
And  now  the  tempest  wildly  breaks  upon  the  thirsty  land. 
The  other  load  is  in,  hurrah  !  and,  ranged  along  the  bay, 
The  men  and  boys  lie  stretched  at  ease  upon  the  new-mown  hay 

VII. 

The  sun  in  splendor  breaks  again  upon  the  waiting  eye. 

And  lo !  a  painted  bow  appears  and  spans  the  eastern  sky. 

And  Farmer  Day  in  evening  prayer  thanks  God  with  hearty 

praise 
For  vernal  sun,  and  summer  rain,  and  plenteous  harvest  days. 

C.  F.  Gerry. 


108  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

XLIY.—  UJV'DURGEOUJVD  TRAVELS. 

PART  FIRST. 

"  "YTTX-'^-^^'  children,  I  have  told  you  about  many  thing^s 
Y  Y     that  I  have  seen  above  ground ;  what  do  you  say 
to  my  going  under  ground  for  a  change,  and  telling  you 
what  I  saw  there  ?  " 

2.  "Oh,  do,  captain!  we  shall  like  that,"  says  Maggie, 
climbing  upon  that  gentleman's  knee.  And  "Oh,  do!"  is 
echoed  by  Frank  and  Sydney,  who  perch  themselves  on 
the  arms  of  the  easy-chair  in  which  he  is  sitting,  "But 
what  do  you  mean?  Why,  how  could  you  get  into  the 
ground?     It  must  be  all  hard  and  dark  there." 

3.  "Have  you  never  heard  of  mines — coal  mines,  and 
lead  and  salt  mines,  and  many  others  ?  " 

4.  "  Oh  yes,  captain,  of  course  we  have." 

5.  "  Well,  it  is  a  salt  mine  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about. 
It  is  a  long  while  ago  I  was  there ;  but  I  was  so  pleased 
and  surprised  at  what  I  saw  that  I  think  I  can  remember 
all  about  it  now. 

6.  "  I  was  travelling  with  a  party  of  friends,  when,  pass- 
ing through  a  small  village  called  Wieliezka,*  we  thought 
we  might  as  well  visit  its  famous  mines." 

7.  "  What  a  funny  name,  though  !   Where  is  it,  captain  ?  " 

8.  "A  very  long  way  from  here,  children.'  It  is  in  a 
country  called  Poland,  and  it  is  a  very  well-known  mine, 
so  that  if  people  are  anywhere  near,  they  like  to  go  and 
see  it.  The  day  we  went,  there  were  thirty  or  forty  other 
people  going  down  too." 

9.  "  And  was  there  only  one  opening  ?  " 

10.  "  No,  there  were  eleven  altogether ;  but  six  of  them 
were  used  for  bringing  up  the  salt.  The  others  were 
square  openings,  at  the  top  of  which  there  was  a  large 
wheel,  with  a  rope  as  thick  as  a  man's  arm  passing 
round  it,  used  to  draw  things  or  people  up  and  down.     I 

■*'■  Pronounced  We-litch''-ka. 


UNDERGROUND   TRAVELS.  109 

remember  the   poor   old   horse  that  worked  it  was  quite 
blind. 

11.  "  The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  put  on  one  of  the 
miners'  coats,  so  as  to  be  fit  to  be  seen  when  we  came  up 
again ;  then  each  of  us  took  a  miner  as  a  guide,  and  pre- 
pared to  start  ofi*." 

12.  '^  Did  it  not  take  a  long  while  for  so  large  a  party  to 
get  down?" 

13.  "No;  we  all  went  down  at  one  time,  although  our 
carriage  did  not  feel  quite  safe.  My  guide  tied  a  rope  round 
the  other  big  one  that  hung  to  the  wheel,  and  then  twisted 
it  round  himself  in  a  loop,  so  that  he  could  get  into  it.  He 
then  made  me  sit  on  his  lap,  put  his  arms  round  me,  and 
gave  the  signal  to  start. 

14.  ''  Off  we  went,  but  we  had  gone  only  a  few  yards  be- 
fore we  made  a  full  stop.  I  thought  something  was  wrong, 
but  no,  it  was  only  a  second  miner  tying  himself  to  the  big 
rope.  He  took  another  visitor  on  his  lap,  and  on  we  started, 
but  soon  to  stop  again  for  a  third  and  fourth,  until  at  last  I 
got  heartily  tired  of  my  awkward  position,  and  rather  afraid 
that  the  rope  might  break. 

15.  "  It  was  not  at  all  pleasant,  I  can  tell  you,  children, 
sitting  in  a  man's  lap  in  a  narrow,  dark  well,  and  knowing 
that  if  that  one  big  rope  did  break,  down  we  should  all  go ; 
but  I  shut  my  eyes,  and  tried  hard  to  forget  that  we  had 
some  six  hundred  feet  of  empty  space  below  us.  Well,  at 
l9,st,  and  it  seemed  a  week  to  me,  we  began  a  slow  descent, 
and  glad  enough  was  I  when  I  found  myself  on  my  feet 
once  more." 

16.  "  Was  it  not  dark  down  there?  " 

17.  "  Yes,  pitch  dark ;  but  the  miner,  being  the  first  one 
down,  struck  a  light  for  his  small  lamp,  and  then,  taking 
hold  of  my  hand,  led  us  along  cold  dark  passages,  down 
lower  and  lower,  not  one  of  us  speaking;  for  I  believe 
that  we  all  heartily  wished  ourselves  safe  outside  again, 
only   no   one  liked   to   own  it.     I  am  sure  I  kept  tight 


110  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

hold  of  my  guide,  and  I  fancy  the  others  did  the  same 
with  theirs. 

18.  "  Presently  we  came  to  another  lot  of  steps,  down 
which  we  almost  stumbled,  the  one  lamp  which  the  guide 
carried  giving  a  most  miserable  light,  and  he  cheering 
us  up  by  saying  that  if  it  went  out  we  should  all  be 
lost,  as  the  mine  was  very  intricate,  and  he  should  never 
be  able  to  lead  us  back,  as  he  did  not  know  the  way.  You 
may  fancy  how  we  kept  our  eyes  fixed  on  that  one  little 
guiding  star,  and  what  our  feelings  were  when  it  suddenly 
fell  and  went  out. 

19.  "  There  we  stood,  like  a  flock  of  frightened  sheep,  in 
a  small  cavern  closely  walled  in,  not  knowing  what  would 
become  of  us,  when  our  guides  (who  it  seemed  knew  very 
well  where  we  were,  and  only  put  out  the  light  to  astonish 
us  the  more)  led  us  up  a  kind  of  straight  passage,  to  a  place 
where  we  suddenly  found  ourselves  looking  at  a  most  won- 
derful scene,  well  worth  all  our  trouble  and  difficulties  to 
reach." 


XLV—UJVBJEEGEOUJVD  TRAVELS. 

PAKT  SECOND. 

"  IjlANCY,  children,  coming  out  of  all  the  damp  and 
_jj  darkness  on  to  a  regular  road,  and  an  underground 
town — with  houses,  carts,  carriages,  people,  horses — ^lighted 
up  most  brilliantly ;  the  whole  place  dazzling  and  bright  at 
any  time,  but  even  more  so  to  us,  just  coming  out  of  the 
dark  passage. 

2.  "  Fancy  what  it  must  have  looked  like.  The  whole  top 
was  arched  and  supported  by  tall  columns ;  the  floor,  the 
roof,  all  carved  out  of  one  large  mass  of  salt,  which  looked 
like  beautiful  crystal." 

3.  "  And  was  it  all  white,  captain  ?  " 

4.  "  No ;  for  to  increase  its  beauty,  the  salt  was  in  some 
parts  stained  with  bright  colors,  looking  like  whole  masses 


UNDERGROUND   TRAVELS.  Ill 

of  precio.us  stones ;  indeed,  in  some  parts  too  dazzling  to 
look  at." 
6.  "And  who  makes  all  these  beautiful  shapes?" 

6.  "The  whole  place  being  hollowed  out  of  one  solid 
block,  they  have  to  be  careful  to  leave  plenty  of  supporting 
columns,  and  the  men  take  great  pride  in  making  them  as 
pretty  as  possible;  and  as  they  are  always  cutting  and 
carving  away  fresh  salt,  their  underground  city  grows 
larger. 

7.  "  It  has  been  worked  for  more  than  six  hundred  years, 
and  there  is  quite  a  large  number  of  families  in  it.  Many 
hundred  people  are  born  and  live  here,  and  never  seem  to 
think  of  living  anywhere  else,  though  most  of  the  men  go 
up  and  down  very  often." 

8.  "  What  do  they  do  for  chairs  and  tables  and  things  ?  " 

9.  "  You  forget  that  they  have  several  doors,  as  we  may 
say,  to  the  mine,  through  which  these  things  can  be  brought. 
The  miners  build  their  huts,  some  separately,  some  to- 
gether. But  the  funniest  thing  is  to  see  the  great  road,  as 
it  is  called,  which  runs  right  through  the  mine,  and  up 
and  down  which  carts  are  constantly  passing  laden  with 
salt,  being  taken  to  where  the  rope  is  waiting  to  fetch  it 
up,  and  to  hear  the  men  whistling  and  singing,  just  as  they 
do  in  the  street." 

10.  "  But  how  do  they  get  along  on  the  ground  ?  " 

11.  "Common  salt  is  not  so  very  hard;  but  the  finest 
sort  is  as  hard  as  stone,  and  they  put  layers  of  this  for  the 
flooring.  They  showed  us  some  pretty  toys  made  of  this 
kind  of  salt,  that  looked  just  like  carved  crystal." 

12.  "  And  what  do  the  poor  horses  think  of  this  fimny 
white  country  ?  How  do  they  get  water  for  them  all  ?  They 
cannot  tie  enough  of  that  to  ropes,  at  any  rate." 

13.  "  They  have  no  need  to  do  so,  as  there  is  a  beauti- 
ful spring  of  clear  water,  enough  for  all  purposes.  But 
as  to  the  poor  horses,  of  which  there  are  very  many 
kept,  when  once  they  are  down  they  have  to  stay  down. 
Poor  things !  they  generally  go  blind  before  long.     I  sup- 


112  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

pose  it  is  the  white  salt,  and  their  not  being  able  to  run 
about  the  country,  as  the  miners  do  sometimes.  But, 
however,  they  do  their  work  all  the  same,  and  are  well 
cared  for. 

14.  "The  miners — poor  fellows! — seemed  very  glad  to 
see  us,  and  very  proud  of  the  beautiful  mine.  We  stayed 
down  two  or  three  hours,  watching  the  large  blocks  of  salt 
being  dug  out  with  chisel  and  pickaxe — big  blocks  weigh- 
ing a  great  many  hundred  pounds.  But  I  must  say  my 
enjoyment  of  the  novel  scene  was  spoiled  by  the  recol- 
lection of  the  uncomfortable  jou^'ney  back." 

15.  "  Are  there  any  other  mines  like  it,  captain  ?  " 

16.  "Not  quite  so  important;  though  at  Sowar,  in 
Hungary,  there  is  a  very  wonderful  one.  There,  too,  is  a 
chapel,  with  altar,  pulpit,  and  chairs — all  cut  out  of  solid 
salt." 

17.  "  I  thought  there  were  salt  mines  in  England." 

18.  "  So  there  are,  but  not  to  be  compared  with  those  we 
have  been  speaking  of,  though  even  these,  when  lighted  up 
with  candles  and  torches,  look  almost  like  fairy  grottoes, 
they  sparkle  and  glitter  so  prettily." 

19.  "Then  does  all  salt  come  from  these  mines?'' 

20.  "  No.  A  great  deal  is  manufactured  from  sea  water 
or  salt  springs.  The  salt  water  is  made  to  flow  into  pits  or 
tanks,  where  in  time  the  sun  and  wind  dry  up  the  water, 
leaving  all  the  salt.  Then  more  water  is  let  in  again  and 
dried,  and  so  on  several  times,  till  the  brine  is  very  strong. 
It  is  then  put  into  boilers,  and,  when  all  the  water  is  quite 
boiled  off,  the  salt  is  left  white  and  sparkling,  like  sugar. 
But  in  hotter  countries  the  brine  is  left  to  the  heat  of  the 
sun.  There  are  large  salt-works  at  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  and 
that  salt  is  called  bay  salt." 

21.  "Who  would  think  it  was  so  much  trouble  to  get  a 
little  salt  for  our  dinner,  though  it  would  not  be  nice  with- 
out it ! " 

22.  "  We  could  not  live  without  salt,  not  only  what  is 
mixed  with  our  food,  but  what  goes  to  preserve  meat  and 


113 

fish,  so  that  it  can  be  kept  and  carried  from  one  place  to 
another.  And  then  a  great  deal  is  used  as  manure,  to  make 
things  grow,  or  mixed  up  with  clay  with  which  our  cups, 
and  saucers,  and  plates  are  made,  though  you  would 
scarcely  think  that  the  polish  on  them  was  produced  by 
some  of  the  salt  which  is  used  to  give  a  flavor  to  the  con- 
tents." 

C.  L.  Matt^aux, 


XLYl,—THE  MAGPIE'S  LECTURE, 
I. 

IN  early  times,  the  story  says, 
When  birds  could  talk  and  lecture, 
A  magpie  called  her  feathered  friends, 

To  teach  them  architecture. 
"  To  build  a  nest,  my  courteous  friends — " 

They  all  began  to  chatter, — 
"  No  need  to  teach  us  that,  good  Mag ; 
'Tis  such  an  easy  matter!" 

II. 
"To  build  a  nest,"  Professor  Mag 

Resumed  her  speech  demurely, 
"  First  choose  a  well-forked  bough,  wherein 

The  nest  may  sit  securely." 
"Of  course,"  said  Jenny  Wren.     "Now  cross 

Two  sticks  for  the  foundation." 
"Oh,  all  know  that,"  quoth  Mr.  Rook, 

"Without  this  long  oration." 

III. 
"  Now  bend  some  slender  twigs,  to  form 

The  round  sides  of  the  dwelling." 
"A  fool  knows  that,"  exclaimed  the  thrush, 

"Without  a  magpie's  telling!" 
"  Next  take  some  wool,  and  line  the  nest, 

And  bind  it  well  together." 
"  Why,  that 's  as  clear,"  exclaimed  the  owl, 

"As  stars  in  frosty  weather!"  # 


114  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

IV. 

While  thus  they  talked,  Professor  Mag 

Her  nest  had  half  completed; 
And,  growing  quite  indignant  now, 

To  see  how  she  was  treated, — 
"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  she  said, 

"I  see  you  are  all  so  clever, 
My  lessons  are  superfluous, — 

I  leave  you,  then,  for  ever." 


V. 

Away  she  flew,  and  left  the  birds 

Their  folly  to  discover. 
Who  now  can  build  but  half  a  nest. 

And  cannot  roof  it  over. 
The  magpie  sits  beneath  her  roof; 

No  rain  nor  hail  can  pelt  her; 
The  others  brooding  o'er  their  young, 

Themselves  enjoy  no  shelter. 


VI. 

No  better  fate  do  men  deserve, 
When  self-conceit  can  lead  them 

Friendly  instructions  to  despise, 
And  think  they  do  not  need  them. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  A  magpie  called  her  friends  to  teach  them  the  art  of  buildinq. 

2.  Professor  Mag  began  her  speech  again  modestly. 

3.  Select  a  branch  wherein  the  nest  may  rest  safely. 

4.  Cross  two  sticks  for  the  bottom. 

6.  All  are  aware  of  that  without  this  long  speech. 

6.  Bend  some  slim  sprigs  to  form  the  sides. 

7.  You  are  all  so  smart  my  lessons  are  useless. 

8.  She  left  the  birds  to  find  out  their  foolishness. 

9.  Vanity  leads  men  to  scorn  friendly  instructions. 


A   LESSON   FROM    A    DOG. 


115 


XLVII.— .^  LESSOM  FROM  A  DOG. 

■'  "TV  "FEVER  make  an  enemy  even  of  a  dog,"  said  I  to 
1  \|  Bobby  Ryan  as  I  caught  at  his  raised  hand  and 
tried  to  prevent  him  from  throwing  a  stick  at  our  neighbor 
Howard's  great  Newfoundland.  But  my  words  and  effort 
were  too  late.  Over  the  fence  flew  the  stick,  and  whack  on 
Dandy's  nose  it  fell. 

2.  Now  Dandy,  a  great  powerful  fellow,  was  very  good 
natured,  but  this  proved  a  little  too  much  for  him.  He 
sprang  up  with  an  angry  growl,  and,  bounding  over  the 
fence  as  if  he  had  been  as  light  as  a  bird,  caught  Bobby 
Ryan  by  the  arm  and  held  him  tightly  enough  to  let  his 
teeth  be  felt. 

3.  "  Dandy  !  Dandy  ! "  I  cried,  in  momentary  alarm, "  let 
go.     Don't  bite  him." 

4.  The  dog  lifted  his  dark  brown,  angry  eyes  to  mine  with 


116  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

a  look  of  intelligence,  and  I  understood  what  they  said :  "  1 
only  want  to  frighten  the  young  rascal." 

5.  And  Bobby  was  frightened.  Dandy  held  him  for  a 
little  while,  growling  savagely,  though  there  was  a  great  deal 
of  make-believe  in  the  growl,  and  then  tossing  the  arm 
away,  leaped  back  over  the  fence  and  laid  himself  down  by 
his  kennel. 

6.  "  You  're  a  very  foolish  boy,  Bobby  Ryan,"  said  I,  "to 
pick  a  quarrel  with  such  a  splendid  old  fellow  as  that.  Sup- 
pose you  were  to  fall  into  the  lake  some  day,  and  Dandy 
happened  to  be  near,  and  suppose  he  should  remember 
your  bad  treatment  and  refuse  to  go  in  after  you  ?  " 

7.  "  Wouldn't  care,"  replied  Bobby  ;  "  I  can  swim." 

8.  Now  it  happened  only  a  week  afterward  that  Bobby 
was  out  on  the  lake  in  company  with  an  older  boy,  and 
that  in  some  way  their  boat  was  upset  in  deep  water  not 
far  from  the  shore ;  and  it  also  happened  that  Mr.  Howard 
and  his  dog  Dandy  were  near  by  and  saw  the  two  boys 
struggling  in  the  water. 

9.  Quick  as  thought  Dandy  sprang  into  the  lake  and 
swam  rapidly  toward  Bobby ;  but,  strange  to  say,  after  get- 
ting close  to  the  lad,  he  turned  and  went  toward  the  larger 
boy,  who  was  struggling  in  the  water,  and  keeping  his  head 
above  the  surface  with  difficulty.  Seizing  him,  Dandy 
brought  him  safely  to  the  shore.  He  then  turned  and 
looked  toward  Bobby,  his  young  tormentor;  he  had  a  good 
many  old  grudges  against  him,  and  for  some  moments 
seemed  hesitating  whether  to  save  him  or  let  him  drown. 

10.  "  Quick,  Dandy  ! "  cried  his  master,  pointing  to  poor 
Bobby,  who  was  trying  his  best  to  keep  afloat.  He  was  not 
the  brave  swimmer  he  had  thought  himself. 

11.  At  this  the  noble  old  dog  bounded  again  into  the 
water  and  brought  Bobby  to  land.  He  did  not  seem  to 
have  much  heart  in  his  work,  however,  for  he  dropped  the 
boy  as  soon  as  he  reached  the  shore,  and  walked  away  with 
a  stately,  indifferent  air. 

12.  But  Bobby,  grateful  for  his  rescue  and  repenting  of 


THE  SOLITARY   REAPER.  117 

his  former  unkindness,  made  up  with  Dandy  on  that  very 
day,  and  they  were  ever  afterwards  fast  friends.  He  came 
very  near  losing  his  life  through  unkindness  to  a  dog,  and 
the  lesson  it  gave  him  will  not  soon  be  forgotten. 


XLVIII.— r^^  SOLITARY  REAPER. 
I. 

BEHOLD  her  single  in  the  field, 
Yon  soHtary  Highland  lass! 
Reaping  and  singing  by  herself: 

Stop  here,  or  gently  pass ! 
Alone  she  cuts  and  binds  the  grain, 
And  sings  a  melancholy  strain : 
O,  listen !  for  the  vale  profound 
Is  overflowing  with  the  sound. 


II. 

No  nightingale  did  ever  chant 
So  sweetly  to  reposing  bands 
Of  travellers  in  some  shady  haunt, 

Among  Arabian  sands; 
No  sweeter  voice  was  ever  heard 
In  spring-time  from  the  cuckoo-bird, 
Breaking  the  silence  of  the  seas 
Among  the  farthest  Hebrides. 


III. 
Will  no  one  tell  me  what  she  sings? 

Perhaps  the  plaintive  numbers  flow 
For  old,  unhappy,  far-ofl*  things, 

And  battles  long  ago : 
Or  is  it  some  more  humble  lay, 
Familiar  matter  of  to-day? — 
Some  natural  sorrow,  loss,  or  pain, 
That  has  been,  and  may  be  again? 


118  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

IV. 

Whate'er  the  theme,  the  maiden  sang 

As  if  her  song  coiild  have  no  ending 
I  saw  her  singing  at  her  work, 

And  o'er  the  sickle  bending; — 
I  hstened — motionless  and  still; 
And.  as  I  mounted  up  the  hill, 
The  music  in  my  heart  I  bore 
Long  after  it  was  heard  no  more. 


XLIX.— FISH  FARMS, 

DID  you  ever  see  a  fish  go  up  a  ladder ?  You  must 
not  laugh.  They  do  go  up  ladders,  though  not  such 
ladders  as  you  are  accustomed  to  see.  But  I  will  begin 
at  the  beginning,  and  tell  you  why  men  build  ladders  for 
fishes. 

2.  The  salmon,  though  she  lives  in  the  ocean,  does  not 
think  it  a  very  safe  home  for  her  babies — as,  indeed,  it  is 
not ;  for  there  are  so  many  big  fish  in  the  ocean  that  are 
fond  of  salmon,  that  not  one  in  a  thousand  of  the  latter 
would  ever  live  to  grow  up.  So  the  wise  mother  salmon 
takes  a  long  journey  every  season  into  some  fresh-water 
stream,  away  up  as  far  as  she  can  go,  to  find  a  safe  place 
for  a  nursery. 

3.  When  she  finds  a  place  which  suits  her,  she  proceeds 
to  prepare  her  cradle — a  very  simple  one;  merely  a  hole 
dug  in  the  bottom  of  the  stream.  There  she  lays  her  eggs 
^ — I  cannot  tell  you  how  many  thousands — and  carefully 
covers  them  up. 

4.  Now  she  can  go  back  to  her  home  in  the  ocean,  sure 
that  her  babies  Vv^ill  flourish  and  have  a  fair  chance  for  life; 
and  when  the}^  are  grown  they  will  join  her  in  the  ocean. 

5.  Well,  salmon  are  very  nice  to  eat,  as  you  probably 
know,  and  the  people  who  lived  on  those  streams  liked  to 
catch  them,  of  course.  But  as  towns  and  villages  grew  up 
ifcn  the  river,  and  men  built  dams,  to  get  water  to  turn 


FISH    FARMS.  119 

mills,  the  salmon  found  they  could'  not  get  up  the  dams ; 
and  so  they  have  gradually  been  growing  more  scarce  in 
the  streams,  till  people  began  to  fear  they  would  disappear 
altogetlier. 

6.  So  some  wise  men  set  their  wits  to  work  to  make  it 
easy  for  the  salmon  to  get  up  the  stream;  and  the  way 
they  finally  decided  on — after  many  trials — was  to  build 
ladders  up  the  dams.  Salmon  will  leap  up  small  falls,  and 
a  salmon  ladder  is  merely  a  sort  of  flight  of  steps  over 
which  the  water  runs.  The  fish  leaps  from  one  step  tc 
another,  and  so  gets  up.  You  would  like  to  see  them? 
Well,  so  would  I.     It  must  be  a  curious  sight. 

7.  Salmon  had  become  so  scarce  before  the  ladders  were 
put  up,  that  men  found  it  necessary  to  take  care  of  the 
eggs  and  young  fish — to  establish  nurseries,  in  fact,  where 
the  eggs  could  be  thoroughly  protected  from  fish,  from  the 
ducks  and  other  water-fowl,  which  are  too  fond  of  eating 
eggs. 

8.  A  fish  nursery  is  a  curious  thing  to  see.  In  the  first 
place,  the  cradle  of  the  fishlets  is  called  a  "  hatching-box," 
and  consists,  generally,  of  a  set  of  small  troughs,  each  higher 
than  the  next,  like  a  flight  of  stairs,  into  which  fresh  water 
constantly  runs. 

9.  When  the  salmon  comes  into  the  stream  to  prepare 
her  nursery,  the  fish  farmer  catches  her  with  a  net,,  and 
gently  persuades  her  to  trust  her  babies  in  his  care.  So 
she  deposits  the  eggs  in  the  place  he  has  provided,  and 
then  the  farmer  puts  her  back  into  the  stream,  and  she 
goes  home  to  the  ocean. 

10.  The  eggs  are  very  carefully  spread  out  in  the  cradles 
I  spoke  of,  and  left  to  hatch  out.  They  must  be  shaded 
from  the  sun,  and  not  get  too  warm  or  too  cold, 

11.  Salmon  and  trout — which  are  also  raised  in  this 
way — require  between  one  and  two  months  to  hatch ;  but 
shad — another  very  nice  fish — hatch  out  in  two  or  three 
days. 

12.  When  the  trout  burst  out  of  the  eggs  they  are  very 


120  THE   FOURTH    READER. 

funny-looking  creatures,  less  than  half  an  inch  long,  and 
looking  not  much  more  like  a  fish  than  you 'do.  But  in 
two  or  three  months  they  get  to  be  an  inch  and  a  half 
long,  and  look  just  like  their  mothers. 

13.  How  would  you  go  to  work  to  feed  these  tiny  crea- 
tures? A  boy  whom  I  know  caught  several  tiny  fish  that 
came  through  a  Chicago  hydrant,  and  fed  them  with  bread 
crumbs.  But,  as  there  are  no  bakers  in  Fish-land,  this  was 
a  new  food  to  them :  they  would  not  eat  it,  and,  of  course, 
they  all  died. 

14.  The  fish  farmer  is  wiser  than  that  boy;  he  feeds 
them  with  beef's  heart,  chopped  fine  enough  to  go  through 
a  sieve,  and  this  he  sends  into  the  water  through  a  squirt- 
gun.  You  would  like  that  part  of  the  business,  would 
you  not? 

15.  As  soon  as  the  little  fishes  are  able  to  take  care  of 
themselves  they  are  taken  out  of  the  nursery,  put  into  a 
pond,  and  have  nothing  further  to  do  but  to  grow. 

16.  They  do  grow,  and  at  last  a  time  comes  to  them,  as 
to  the  boys  at  home,  when  they  feel  an  irresistible  impulse 
to  push  out  into  the  world  for  themselves.  Then  they  will 
crowd  around  the  gates  of  their  ponds ;  for  these  fish-ponds 
are  connected  by  gates  with  the  river,  and  the  farmer  must 
then  open  the  gates  and  let  them  go  to  the  ocean. 

17.  One  strange  thing  about  the  salmon  and  the  trout  is, 
that  they  always  come  back  to  their  own  old  home,  to 
make  homes  for  their  babies.  So,  when  a  river  is  exhausted 
of  fish,  all  that  is  necessary  to  be  done  is  to  hatch  out  in 
ponds  a  lot  of  fish,  and  put  them,  when  old  enough,  into 
the  river.  They  will  go  to  the  ocean,  and  be  sure  to  come 
back  to  lay  their  eggs — that  is,  if  they  are  not  themselves 
captured  while  in  the  ocean.  Thus  the  river  will  be  filled 
again. 

18.  Would  you  not  like  to  see  a  fish  farm  ?  There  are 
several  such  farms  in  America,  and  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  fish  are  put  into  our  exhausted  rivers  every  year. 

19.  You  can  raise  fish  for  yourself  if  you  like.     It  Ib  no 


THE  CHRISTMAS   TREE.  121 

more  trouble  than  to  keep  goldfish,  and  a  thousand  times 
more  interesting. 

20.  You  can  buy  the  hatching-boxes  or  have  them  made, 
buy  the  eggs  of  some  professional  fish  farmer,  and  start 
your  farm — in  your  parlor,  if  you  choose. 

21.  If  you  have  a  suitable  pond,  you  can  in  a  year  or 
two,  at  a  very  slight  expense,  stock  it  with  brook  trout— 
the  most  delicious  fish  in  our  waters,  and,  perhaps,  in  the 
world. 

22.  Shad  are  much  less  troublesome  to  bring  up  by  hand 
.lan  the  trout.     They  hatch  out  in  two  or  three  days,  and. 

when  three  days  old,  will  take  to  the  middle  of  a  stream 
and  take  care  of  themselves. 

23.  If  any  of  my  readers  live  within  fifty  miles  of  a  fish 

farm,  let  me  assure  them  they  will  be  well  paid  for  the 

trouble  of  visiting  it,  for  it  is  the  most  interesting  variety 

of  farming  that  I  know  anything  about. 

Olive  Thorne. 

Ij.—THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE. 

First  Voice. 

HURKAH !  hurrah !  for  the  Christmas  tree ; 
May  it  flourish  for  aye  in  its  greenery! 
When  the  winter  comes  with  its  whitening  snow, 
How  proudly  the  Christmas  tree  doth  grow. 

All. 
Hurrah!  hurrah!  for  the  Christmas  tree; 
Hurrah!  hurrah!  for  its  mirth  and  glee; 
When  forests  of  oak  have  passed  from  the  land, 
The  jolly  old  Christmas  tree  shall  stand. 

Second  Voice. 
There  are  wonderful  plants  far  over  the  sea, 
But  what  are  they  all  to  the  Christmas  tree? 
Does  the  oak  bear  candies,  the  palm  tree  skates? 
But  sugar-plums,  trumpets,  doll-babies,  slates. 
Picture-books,  elephants,  soldiers,  cows, 
All  grow  at  once  on  the  Christmas  tree  boughs. 


122  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

All. 
Hurrah!  hurrah!  for  the  Christmas  tree; 
Hurrah!  hurrah!  for  its  mirth  and  glee; 
When  forests  of  oak  have  passed  from  the  land, 
The  jolly  old  Christmas  tree  shall  stand. 

Third  Voice. 
Oh,  the  many  homes  it  hath  happy  made 
When  the  little  ones  under  its  leaves  have  played; 
Oh,  sweet  are  the  pleasures  around  it  that  spring, 
And  dear  are  the  thoughts  of  the  past  they  bring. 
Then  long  may  it  flourish,  and  green  may  it  be, 
The  merry,  mighty  old  Christmas  tree ! 

All. 
Hurrah!  hurrah!  for  the  Christmas  tree; 
Hurrah!  hurrah!  for  its  mirth  and  glee; 
When  forests  of  oak  have  passed  from  the  land, 
The  jolly  old  Christmas  tree  shall  stand. 


11.— TEE  OLD  FEEJfCH  TIKKER, 

THERE  once  lived  in  France  an  old  tinker.  He  used 
to  travel  about  the  country,  mending  clocks  and 
umbrellas.  This  he  had  done  for  a  great  many  years ;  and 
people  used  to  expect  him  v^hen  his  time  came  round.  But 
he  began  to  grow  too  old  for  work. 

2.  At  last,  one  day  he  came  to  a  place  called  Gap,  and  he 
went  to  the  inn.  When  the  landlord  saw  him,  he  said, 
*^  Well,  my  old  friend,  I  'm  glad  to  see  you.  My  clocks  are 
wanting  you  very  much." 

3.  But  the  tinker  said,  "  Thank  you  for  your  kindness, 
sir.  I  have  been  glad  to  serve  you  for  many  years,  but  I 
am  afraid  my  work  will  soon  be  over.  I  think  I  shall  die 
soon.  You  have  been  always  very  kind  to  me ;  and  I  am 
sure  you  will  promise  to  do  something  for  me  before  I  die. 


A   LITTLE   HOUSE.  123 

4.  "This  is  all  that  belongs  to  me.  Here  is  my  pack, 
and  here  is  my  stick.  Here  are  also  two  letters.  I  have  a 
nephew  living  in  Paris;  he  has  never  cared  much  about 
me,  but  will  you  send  him  this  letter  as  soon  as  I  am  gone  ? 

5.  "  If  he  takes  my  goods,  all  very  well ;  but  if  he  won't, 
then  please  to  open  this  other  letter,  and  it  will  tell  you 
what  is  to  be  done  with  them." 

6.  The  tinker  soon  after  died.  The  landlord  sent  the 
letter  to  his  nephew  in  Paris ;  and  an  answer  came  back 
that  he  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  his  old  uncle,  or 
ivith  any  of  his  goods.     He  said  he  wanted  no  rubbish. 

7.  So  then  the  landlord  opened  the  other  letter,  which 
told  him  that  as  the  good-for-nothing  nephew  refused  the 
things,  he  might  have  them  for  himself  as  a  return  for  all 
his  kindness,  and,  particularly,  he  was  to  take  off  the  top  of 
the  stick,  and  see  what  was  inside  it. 

8.  In  the  pack  there  was  nothing  but  the  old  man's 
working  tools  and  a  few  clothes.  But  when  the  landlord 
proceeded  to  open  the  stick,  presently  five  gold  coins 
dropped  out ;  and  on  searching  farther  down,  he  took  out 
bank-notes  to  the  amount  of  several  thousand  dollars. 

9.  Thus  the  kind  man  was  well  rewarded,  and  the  hard- 
hearted, proud  nephew  well  served. 


LII.— .^  LITTLE  HOUSE. 

I. 

ONLY  a  little  house— 
A  house  by  the  side  of  a  hill— 
With  dances  of  sunshine  gleaming  about, 
Through  tossing  branches  in  and  out, 
And  the  sound  of  a  little  rill, 
That,  through  the  tiny  garden-plot, 
All  day  long,  and  all  night  through, 
Murmurs  music  ever  new, 
"I  am  happy — and  you? 
Why  not?" 


124  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

n. 
Only  a  little  house, 
But  a  house  brimful  of  life — 
Busy  husband  and  happy  wife, 
Prattle  of  babies  three: 
Singing  of  birds,  and  humming  of  bees; 
Shadow  and  sunshine  on  the  trees; 
Glancing  needles,  eager  talk; 
Books,  and  pens,  and  the  evening  walk 
Through  the  meadows  down  below; 
Thus  the  summer  days  go  by. 
And  we  look  on,  and  only  sigh — 
We  sigh,  but  do  not  know. 

III. 
Only  a  little  house. 
But  a  house  heart-full  of  bliss — 
Plenty  of  work  and  plenty  of  play; 
Busy  heart  and  brain  all  day; 
And  then,  ere  the  good-night  kiss. 
The  lingering  shadow  of  worldly  care, 
Wafted  off  by  the  evening  prayer; 
And  silence  falls  on  the  little  house. 
Save  for  the  whirr  of  the  midnight  mouse, 
Here,  and  there,  and  everywhere ; 
And  through  the  tiny  garden-plot, 
The  voice  of  the  rill,  which,  all  night  through. 
Murmurs  its  music  ever  new — 
"I  am  happy — and  you? 
Why  not?" 


lAll.—TUBMIJ^G  THE  GBIJ^DSTOJ^E. 

WHEN  I  was  a  little  boy,  I  remember,  one  cold  win- 
ter's morning,  I  was  accosted  by  a  smiling  man 
with  an   ax   on  his  shoulder.     "  My  pretty  boy,"  said  he, 
"  has  your  father  a  grindstone  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I. 

2.  "  You  are  a  fine  little  fellow,"  said  he ;  "  will  you  let 
me  grind  my  ax  on  it  ?  '■ 


TURNING   THE   GRINDSTONE. 


125 


Pl'^ased  with  the  compliment  of  "  fine  little  fellow,"  "  Oh 
yes,  sir,"  I  answered.     "  It  is  down  in  the  shop." 

3.  "  And  will  you,  my  man,"  said  he,  patting  me  on  the 
head,  ''  get  me  a  little  hot  water  ?  " 

How  could  I  refuse  ?   I  ran  and  soon  brought  a  kettlefui. 

4  "  How  old  are  you  ?  and  what 's  your  name  ? "  con- 
tinued he,  without  waiting  for  a  reply ;  "  I  am  sure  you 


are  one  of  the  finest  lads  that  ever  I  have  seen;  will  you 
just  turn  a  few  minutes  for  me?" 

5.  Tickled  with  the  flattery,  like  a  little  fool,  I  went  to 
work,  and  bitterly  did  I  rue  the  day.  It  was  a  new  ax, 
and  I  toiled  and  tugged  till  I  was  almost  tired  to  death. 
The  school-bell  rang,  and  I  could  not  get  away ;  my  hands 
were  blistered,  and  the  ax  was  not  half  ground. 


126  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

6.  At  length,  however,  it  was  sharpened;  and  the  mar. 
turned  to  me  with,  "  Now,  you  little  rascal,  you  Ve  played 
truant ;  scud  to  the  school,  or  you  '11  rue  it ! " 

7.  "Alas!"  thought  I,  "it  was  hard  enough  to  turn  a 
grindstone  this  cold  day,  but  now  to  be  called  a  little  rascal 
is  too  much." 

^  8.  It  sunk  deep  into  my  mind,  and  often  have  I  thought 
of  it  since.  When  I  see  a  merchant  over  polite  to  his  cus- 
tomers, begging  them  to  take  a  little  brandy,  and  throwing 
his  goods  on  the  counter,  I  think,  "  That  man  has  an  ax 
to  grind." 

9.  When  I  see  a  man  flattering  the  people,  making  great 
professions  of  attachment  to  liberty,  who  is  in  private  life 
a  tyrant,  methinks,  "  Look  out,  good  people !  that  fellow 
would  set  you  turning  grindstones ! " 

10.  When  I  see  a  man  hoisted  into  office  by  party  spirit, 
without  a  single  qualification  to  render  him  either  respect- 
able or  useful,  "  Alas ! "  methinks,  "  deluded  people,  you  are 
doomed  for  a  season  to  turn  the  grindstone  for  a  booby." 

Charles  Miner. 


UN.— THE  FOOLISH  HAREBELL. 
I. 

A  HAREBELL  hung  its  willful  head: 
"  I  am  tired,  so  tired !  I  wish  I  was  dead.' 
She  hung  her  head  in  the  mossy  dell : 
"  If  all  were  over,  then  all  were  well." 


n. 
The  wind  he  heard,  and  was  pitiful ; 
He  waved  her  about  to  make  her  cool. 
"  Wind,  you  are  rough,"  said  the  dainty  bell ; 
"Leave  me  alone — I  am  not  well." 
And  the  wind,  at  the  voice  of  the  drooping  dame, 
Sank  in  his  heart,  and  ceased  for  shame. 


THE   FOOLISH   HAREBELL.  127 

III. 

"  I  am  hot,  so  hot ! "  she  sighed  and  said ; 
"I  am  withering  up;  I  wish  I  was  dead." 
Then  the  sun,  he  pitied  her  pitiful  case, 
And  drew  a  thick  veil  over  his  face. 
"  Cloud,  go  away,  and  don't  be  rude ; 
I  am  not — I  don't  see  why  you  should." 

IV. 

The  cloud  withdrew;  and  the  harebell  cried, 
"  I  am  faint,  so  faint !  and  no  water  beside ! " 
And  the  dew  came  down  its  millionfold  path; 
But  she  murmured,  "  I  did  not  want  a  bath.'* 


A  boy  came  by  in  the  morning  gray; 

He  plucked  the  harebell  and  threw  it  away. 

The  harebell  shivered,  and  cried,  "  Oh !  oh ! 

I  am  faint,  so  faint !     Come,  dear  wind,  blow ! " 

The  wind  blew  softly,  and  did  not  speak. 

She  thanked  him  kindly,  but  grew  more  weak. 

VI. 

"Sun,  dear  sun,  I  am  cold!"  she  said. 
He  rose;  but  lower  she  drooped  her  head. 
"O  rain,  I  am  withering;  all  the  blue 
Is  fading  out  of  me; — come!  please  do!" 
The  rain  came  down  as  fast  as  it  could, 
But  for  all  its  will,  it  did  her  no  good. 

VII. 

She  shuddered  and  shriveled,  and,  moaning,  said, 
"Thank  you  all  kindly!"  and  then  she  was  dead. 
Let  us  hope,  let  us  hope,  when  she  comes  next  year, 
She  '11  be  simple  and  sweet.    But  I  fear,  I  fear. 

George  Macdonald. 


128  THE   FOURTH   READER. 


LV.—SIB  ISAAC  J^EWTOJ^. 

NEWTON  was  born  in  1642.  He  discovered  the  prin- 
ciple of  gravitation,  by  which  all  bodies  attract  one 
another  in  proportion  to  their  size  and  solidit3\  This  power 
makes  things  fall  to  the  ground,  and,  in  like  manner,  makes 
the  earth  itself  move  round  the  sun. 

2.  The  earth  is  prevented  from  falling  into  the  sun  b}'  a 
force  originally  given  to  it,  which  tends  to  drive  it  otf  in  a 
straight  line;  but  the  two  forces  acting  together  con] pel  it 
to  move  in  a  circular  direction  round  the  sun. 

3.  This  is  the  Newtonian  system,  which  is  now  uni- 
versally received.  It  was  thought  so  remarkable  that  such 
discoveries,  respecting  bodies  so  far  removed  from  us  as  the 
sun  and  stars,  and  apparently  so  much  beyond  our  com- 
prehension, should  be  made  by  a  mortal  man,  that  those 
who  lived  in  Newton's  time  were  almost  disposed  to  believe 
that  there  was  something  miraculous  in  it. 

4.  This  is  expressed  in  the  lines  inscribed  on  Newton's 
monument : 

"Nature  and  Nature's  laws  lay  hid  in  night; 
God  said,  'Let  Newton  be/  and  all  was  light." 

He  died  in  1727,  aged  eighty- four  years. 

5.  There  are  several  interesting  anecdotes  of  Newton. 
The  first  relates  to  his  great  discovery  of  gravitation. 
Being  in  the  country,  and  sitting  at  his  door  one  day,  over-" 
looking  his  garden,  he  saw  an  apple  fall  to  the  ground. 

6.  The  thought  occurred  to  him,  "  Why  does  the  apple 
fall?"  It  is  no  answer  to  say,  "Its  weight  makes  it  fall;" 
for  then  the  question  would  only  take  a  different  form,  and 
be,  "  Why  do  heavy  bodies  fall?"  He  could  find  no  answer 
satisfactory  to  his  own  mind  but  this :  "  The  earth  attracts 
them." 

7.  But  why  suppose  the  earth  only  to  have  this  attractive 
power?  This  led  to  the  conclusion  that  all  bodies  have  it 
in  proportion  to  their  bulk ;  and  if  all  bodies  on  this  earth 


THE   FROST.  129 

have  it,  then  why  not  also  the  heavenly  bodies — the  sun, 
moon,  and  stars?  This  idea,  reflected  upon,  and  sub- 
mitted to  mathematical  investigation,  resulted  in  the  theory 
of  gravitation. 

8.  Another  anecdote  illustrates  his  self-command.  He 
had  been  laboring  for  many  years  on  very  abstruse  calcu- 
lations relating  to  a  particular  branch  of  inquiry ;  and  one 
lay,  returning  to  his  study,  he  found  that  his  favorite  dog 
Diamond,  had  overturned  a  lighted  candle,  which  had  set 
fire  to  his  papers  and  completely  destroyed  them.  He  only 
said,  "O  Diamond,  Diamond!  little  do  you  know  the  mis- 
chief you  have  done ! " 

9.  Another  anecdote  illustrates  his  modesty.  A  short 
time  before  his  death  he  remarked,  "  I  know  not  what  I 
may  appear  to  the  world,  but  to  myself  I  seem  to  have 
been  only  like  a  boy  playing  on  the  sea-shore,  and  divert- 
ing myself  in  now  and  then  finding  a  smoother  pebble  or  a 
prettier  shell  than  ordinary,  whilst  the  great  ocean  of  truth 
lay  all  undiscovered  before  me." 

BULFINCH. 


INl.—THE  FROST, 
I. 

THE  frost  looked  forth  one  still  clear  night, 
And  whispered,  "Now,  I  shall  be  out  of  sight; 
So  through  the  valley  and  over  the  height, 

In  silence  I'll  take  my  way; 
I  will  not  go  on  like  that  blustering  train, 
The  wind  and  the  snow,  the  hail  and  the  rain, 
Who  make  so  much  bustle  and  noise  in  vain; — 
But  I'll  be  as  busy  as  they." 

n. 
Then  he  flew  to  ihe  mountain  and  powdered  its  crest 
He  lit  on  the  trees,  and  their  boughs  he  dressed 
In  diamond  beads — and  over  the  breast 
Of  the  quivering  lake  he  spread 
4  ^ 


130  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

A  coat  of  mail,  that  it  need  not  fear 
The  downward  point  of  many  a  spear 
That  he  hung  on  its  margin,  far  and  near, 
Where  a  rock  could  rear  its  head. 

in. 

He  went  to  the  windows  of  those  who  slept, 
And  over  each  pane  like  a  fairy  crept; 
Wherever  he  breathed,  wherever  he  stept, 

By  the  light  of  the  moon  were  seen 
Most  beautiful  things; — there  were  flowers  and  trees; 
There  were  bevies  of  birds  and  swarms  of  bees; 
There  were  cities  with  temples  and  towers,  and  these 

All  pictured  in  silver  sheen. 

IV. 

But  he  did  one  thing  that  was  hardly  fair; 
He  peeped  in  the  cupboard,  and  finding  there 
That  all  had  forgotten  for  him  to  prepare — 

"  Now,  just  to  set  them  a-thinking, 
I'll  bite  this  basket  of  fruit,"  said  he; 
'  This  costly  pitcher  I  '11  burst  in  three ; 
And  the  glass  of  water  they've  left  for  me 
-Shall  'tchickr  to  tell  them  I'm  drinking." 

Miss  Gould. 


INll.— HABITS  OF  FLOWERS. 

FLOWERS  have  habits,  or  ways  of  acting,  just  as  people 
have.  For  example,  all  flowers  naturally  turn  towards 
the  light,  as  if  they  loved  it.  This  can  be  seen  by  watching 
plants  that  are  standing  near  a  window.  The  flowers  will 
all  be  bent  towards  the  light  if  the  pots  are  allowed  always 
to  stand  in  the  same  position ;  but  by  turning  them  round 
a  little  every  day,  while  the  blossoms  are  opening,  the 
flowers  can  be  made  to  look  in  different  directions. 

2.  There  are.  some  flowers  that  shut  themselves  up  at 
night,  as  if  to  go  to  sleep,  and  open  again  in  the  morning, 


HABITS   OF   FLOWERS. 


131 


?>i 


t\ 


as  is  the  case  A^vith  tulips.  I  was  one  morning  admiring 
some  flowers  that  had  been  sent  me  the  evening  before. 
Among  them  were  some  tulips,  and  out  ^ 

of  one  of  these,  as  it  opened,  flew  a  bee. 

3.  A  lazy,  dronish  bee  he  must  have  ^^  "^^^5^"; 
been,  to  be  caught  in  this  way,  when 
the  flower  was  closing  for  the  night.  'j^^'Igai^j^^C^ 
Or  perhaps  he  had  done  a  hard  day's 
work  in  gathering  honey,  and  at  last 
had  become  sleepy.  At  any  rate,  he 
stayed  too  long  in  the  tulip,  and  so  was 
shut  in  for  the  night. 

4.  The  little  daisy  is  one  of  the  flowers 
that  close  at  night;  but  it  is  as  beauti-  JL/^VI 
ful  and  bright  as  ever,  on  its  "slender 
stem,"  when  it  awakes  in  the  morning.  ^^^^^kf^&\ 
When  it  shuts  itself  up,  it  forms  a  little 
round  green  ball,  and  looks  something 
like  a  pea,  and  can  hardly  be  distin- 
guished from  the  green  grass  amidst 
which  it  lies. 

5.  But  look  next  morning,  and  the 
ball  is  open,  showing,  as  the  poet  de- 
scribes, "a  golden  tuft  within  a  silver 
crown."  It  is  a  very  beautiful  sight  in- 
deed to  see  the  grass  spangled  with 
daisies,  shining  in  the  bright  sun.  It 
is  supposed  that  this  flower  was  first 
called  daj/s  eye,  because  it  opens  its  eye 
at  the  dawn  of  day,  and  that  afterwards 
the  name  became  corrupted  to  daisy. 

6.  The  golden  flowers  of  the  dandelion 
are  shut  up  every  night,  and  they  are 
folded  so  closely  together  in  their  green 
coverings,  that  they  look  like  buds  which 
had  never  been  opened.  In  places  where  the  sun  is  very 
hot,  the  dandelion  shuts  itself  up  even  during  the  day : 


132  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

and  in  this  way  it  is  sheltered  in  its  green  covering  from 
the  sun,  and  kept  from  fading. 

7.  Some  flowers  hang  down  their  heads  at  night,  as  if 
nodding  in  their  sleep,  but  in  the  morning  they  lift  them 
up  again,  to  welcome  the  light.  Other  flowers  have  a  par- 
ticular time  to  open.  The  evening  primrose,  for  example, 
is  so  called  because  it  does  not  open  till  evening. 

8.  The  splendid  flower  called  the  night- blooming  cereus 
opens  only  once.  It  lets  its  beauty  be  seen  but  for  a  few 
hours,  and  then  it  fades  and  dies.  It  is  a  very  rare  flower, 
and  few  ever  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  it.  Those  who 
have,  watch  for  its  opening  with  great  eagerness.  It  opens 
generally  very  late  in  the  evening,  and  is  closed  again  in  a 
few  hours,  thus  never  admitting  the  light  of  day  into  its 
bosom. 

9.  Through  spring,  summer,  and  autumn  we  have  a  con- 
stant succession  of  flowers,  each  having  its  own  season,  and 
opening  at  its  appointed  time  every  year.  God  has  kindly 
provided  us  with  beautiful  things  to  looTi  upon,  in  the  gar- 
den and  in  the  field,  during  all  the  warmer  months  of  the 
year.     Let  us  thank  Him  for  his  goodness. 

10.  The  flowers  that  bloom  in  spring  are  generally  small 
and  delicate.  Summer  flowers  are  more  abundant  than 
those  of  spring  or  autumn,  and  are  scattered  abroad  in 
rich  profusion,  of  every  variety  of  color  and  form.  They 
are  commonly  very  fragrant,  so  that  the  air  is  filled  with 
pleasant  odors. 

11.  Autumn  flowers  generally  have  bright  colors,  and  are 
very  showy,  but  few  of  them  have  any  fragrance. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  It  is  a  'pretty  sight  to  see  the  grass  brilliantly  adorned  with  daisies. 

2.  The  dandelion  is  protected  in  its  green  envelope. 

3.  Some  flowers  droop  their  heads  at  night. 

4.  Other  flowers  have  an  especial  time  to  unfold. 

5.  God  ha&Jurnished  us  with  handsome  things  to  look  upon. 

6.  Flowers  that  blossom  in  spring  are  usually  small  and  slender, 

7.  Summer  flowers  are  spread  abroad  in  abundance. 


THE   HUMMING-BIRD.  133 

LVIII.— T^^  GOLDEJi  COIK. 
I. 

BEN  ADAM  had  a  golden  coin  one  day, 
Which  he  put  at  interest  with  a  Jew; 
Year  after  year,  awaiting  him  it  lay. 

Until  the  doubled  coin  two  pieces  grew, 
And  these  two  four — so  on,  till  people  said, 
"How  rich  Ben  Adam  is!"  and  bowed  the  servile  head. 

II. 

Ben  Selim  had  a  golden  coin  that  day, 

Which  to  a  stranger,  asking  alms,  he  gave, 
WTio  went  rejoicing  on  his  unknown  way — 

Ben  Selim  died,  too  poor  to  own  a  grave ; 
But  when  his  soul  reached  heaven,  angels  with  pride 

Showed  him  the  wealth  to  which  his  coin  had  multiplied 


UX.—THE  HUMMIMG-BIBD. 

HUMMING-BIRDS  are  natives  of  America.  They  are 
at  once  the  smallest  and  the  most  brilliantly  colored 
of  the  whole  feathered  race.  There  are  many  species,  all 
varying  in  size  from  that  of  a  wren  to  a  humble  bee,  and 
exhibiting  a  splendor  and  beauty  of  plumage  which  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  describe. 

2.  These  gems  of  animated  nature  are  to  be  seen  clad  in 
the  loveliest  crimson,  blue,  and  green,  laid  on  a  ground  of 
gold ;  but  much  of  their  varied  elegance  is  lost  when  they 
are  not  seen  in  their  native  woods.  Nothing  can  be  more 
beautiful  than  to  see  them  glittering  like  gems  among  the 
highly-scented  blossoms  of  the  warm  countries  which  they 
inhabit. 

3.  They  possess  a  long  and  extremely  slender  bill,  with 
which  they  extract  the  nectar,  and  the  small  insects  which 
lurk  in  the  recesses  of  the  flowers.  They  are  formed  for 
rapid  flight,  and  are  almost  ever  on  the  wing. 


134  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

4.  Wherever  a  creeping  vine  opens  its  fragrant  clusters, 
or  wherever  a  tree-flower  blooms,  these  lovely  creatures  are 
to  be  seen.  In  the  garden,  in  the  woods,  over  the  water, 
everywhere  they  are  darting  about — of  all  sizes,  from  one 
that  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  a  different  variety  of 
bird,  to  the  tiny  hermit,  whose  body  is  scarcely  as  large  as 
that  of  the  bee  buzzing  about  the  same  sweets. 

5.  Sometimes  they  are  seen  chasing  each  other  with  a 
rapidity  of  flight  and  intricacy  of  path  the  eye  is  puzzled 
to  follow.  Again,  circling  round  and  round,  they  rise  high 
in  mid-air,  then  dart  ofi"  to  some  distant  attraction. 

6.  Perched  upon  a  little  limb  they  smooth  their  plumes, 
and  seem  to  delight  in  their  dazzling  hues;  then  darting 
off"  again,  they  skim  along,  stopping  now  and  then  before  a 
flower  and  extracting  its  honey  as  they  hover  in  the  air. 
Their  wings  vibrate  with  such  rapidity  that  the  motion  is 
scarcely  visible;  and  it  is  from  the  constant  murmur  or 
humming  sound  caused  by  the  rapid  vibration  that  these 
beautiful  little  creatures  derive  their  name. 

7.  The  nest  of  the  humming-bird  is  very  beautifully  con- 
structed of  the  softest  down,  gathered  from  the  silk-cotton 
tree,  and  covered  on  the  outside  with  bits  of  leaves  and 
moss.  The  nest  of  the  smallest  species  is  about  as  big  as 
the  half  of  a  walnut,  and  in  this  tiny  cup  the  lovely  crea- 
ture rests.  

EXERCISE. 

1.  Humming-birds  are  the  tiniest  and  most  brightly  tinted  of  birds. 

2.  There  are  many  kinds,  differing  in  size. 

3.  They  display  a  brilliancy  and  elegance  of  plumage  which  it  is  hardly 

possible  to  represent  by  words. 

4.  These  gems  of  the  living  world  are  to  be  seen  dressed  in  various  colors. 

5.  They  have  a  long  and  very  slender  beak. 

6.  They  take  out  the  honey  and  the  small  insects  that  lie  hidden  in  the 

flowers. 

7.  They  are  formed  for  swift  flying. 

8.  Their  wings  move  with  such  swiftness  that  their  motion  is  scarcely 

to  be  seen. 

9.  The  nest  is  very  neatly  built  of  the  softest  down. 


BJBJTTER   THAN   GOI^I>.  135 

LX.—BETTIJE  THAJf  GOLD. 

I. 

BETTER  than  grandeur,  better  than  gold, 
Than  rank  or  titles  a  hundredfold, 
Is  a  healthful  body,  a  mind  at  ease,  '- 

And  simple  pleasures  that  always  please. 
A  heart  that  can  feel  for  a  neighbor's  woe^ 
And  share  in  his  joy  with  a  friendly  glow, 
With  sympathies  large  enough  to  infold 
All  men  as  brothers,  is  better  than  gold. 

n. 
Better  than  gold  is  the  sweet  repose 
Of  the  sons  of  toil  when  their  labors  close; 
Better  than  gold  is  the  poor  man's  sleep, 
And  the  balm  that  drops  on  his  slumbers  deep. 
Better  than  gold  is  a  thinking  mind, 
That  in  realms  of  thought  and  books  can  find 
A  treasure  surpassing  Australian  ore, 
And  live  with  the  great  and  the  good  of  yore. 

III. 
Better  than  gold  is  a  peaceful  home, 
Where  all  the  fireside  charities  come, — 
The  shrine  of  love  and  the  haven  of  life, 
Hallowed  by  mother,  or  sister,  or  wife. 
However  humble  that  home  may  be, 
Or  tried  with  sorrows  by  Heaven's  decree. 
The  blessings  that  never  were  bought  or  sold, 
And  center  there,  are  better  than  gold. 

IV. 

Better  than  gold  in  affliction's  hour 

Is  the  balm  of  love,  with  its  soothing  power ; 

Better  than  gold  on  a  dying  bed 

Is  the  hand  that  pillows  the  sinking  head. 

When  the  pride  and  glory  of  life  decay. 

And  earth  and  its  vanities  fade  away, 

The  prostrate  sufferer  needs  not  to  be  told 

That  trust  in  Heaven  is  better  than  gold. 

Alexander  Smart. 


136  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

LXL—TRU  DERVISE  AJfD  THE  CAMEL. 

IN  one  of  the  Eastern  fables  it  is  said  that  a  dervise  oi 
Turkish  monk  was  journeying  alone  in  the  desert.  He 
often  stopped  and  fell  down  on  the  sands  to  say  his  prayers ; 
but  he  was  at  length  met  by  a  company  of  merchants,  who 
immediately  accosted  him.  "  Holy  man,"  said  they,  "  we 
have  lost  a  camel." 

2.  "  Was  he  not  blind  in  his  right  eye,  and  lame  in  his 
left  leg  ?  "  asked  the  dervise. 

"  He  was,"  said  the  merchants. 

3.  "  Had  he  not  lost  a  front  tooth  ? "  inquired  the  der- 
vise. 

"  He  had,"  said  the  merchants. 

4.  "  Was  he  not  loaded  with  wheat  on  one  side  ?  " 
"  He  was,"  said  the  merchants. 

6.  "  And  with  honey  on  the  other  ?  " 
"He  was!  he  was!  he  was!"  said  the  merchants,  sur- 
prised. 

6.  "Then,"  said  the  dervise,  "I  have  not  seen  your 
camel." 

7.  The  merchants  were  now  in  a  great  rage,  and  told  the 
dervise  that  he  must  know  well  about  the  camel,  and  sus- 
pected that  he  might  have  received  some  of  the  jewels  and 
ix".oney  which  formed  part  of  the  camel's  load.  They,  there- 
fore, seized  him,  and  carried  him  to  the  nearest  town,  and 
brought  him  before  the  cadi  or  judge. 

8.  The  cadi  heard  the  story  of  the  merchants,  and 
seemed  to  think  the  dervise  knew  more  about  the  camel 
and  the  thieves  than  he  chose  to  tell.  Before  he  con- 
demned him,  however,  he  commanded  him  to  answer  his 
accusers. 

9.  "  How  did  you  know  the  camel  was  blind  of  one 
eye?" 

10.  "  I  inferred  that  the  animal  was  blind  of  one  eye, 
because  it  had  cropped  the  herbage  only  on  one  side  of  the 
path,"  replied  the  dervise. 


THE   DERVI8E   AND   THE   CAMEL.  137 

11.  "How  did  you  know  it  was  lame  of  the  left  leg?^* 
asked  the  cadi. 

12.  "  I  inferred  that  it  was  lame  of  the  left  leg,  because  I 
observed  the  impression  of  that  foot  was  fainter  than  those 
of  the  others." 

13.  "  How  did  you  know  the  animal  had  lost  r.  tooth  ?  " 
asked  the  cadi. 

14.  "  I  inferred  that  it  had  lost  a  tooth,"  replied  the  dci- 
vise,  ''  because  wherever  it  had  grazed  a  small  tuft  of  her- 
bage was  left  uninjured  in  the  center  of  its  bite." 

15.  "  But  how  could  you  tell  with  what  it  was  laden  ?  " 
interrupted  the  merchants ;  "  ay,  tell  us  that." 

16.  "As  to  that  which  formed  the  burden  of  the  beast, 
the  busy  ants  on  one  side,  and  the  flies  on  the  other,  showed 
me  that  corn  and  honey  were  its  burden.  And  more  than 
this,  my  friends,"  he  continued,  "  I  infer  that  the  animal 
has  only  strayed,  and  is  not  stolen,  as  there  were  no  marks 
of  any  footsteps,  either  before  or  behind  it.  Return  and 
look  for  your  camel." 

17.  "  Go,"  said  the  cadi,  "  and  look  for  your  camel." 

18.  The  merchants  did  so,  and  f^nnd  the  beast  only  a 
few  miles  from  the  spot  whence  it  had  strayed. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  A  Tiirkisli  monk  was  traveling  in  the  desert. 

2.  He  met  a  band  of  merchants  who  at  once  spoke  to  him. 

3.  The  traders  were  now  very  angry. 

4.  The  judge  ordered  him  to  reply  to  his  accusers. 

5.  The  camel  had/et/  upon  the  grass  on  one  side  of  the  way. 

6.  I  concluded  that  it  was  lame  of  the  left  leg. 

7.  I  saw  that  the  track  of  that  foot  was  less  distinct  than  those  of  the 

others. 

8.  Wherever  it  had  eaten  the  grass  a  small  hunch  was  left  unharmed. 

9.  Corn  and  honey  were  the  load  of  the  animal. 

10.  The  creature  has  only  wandered  and  is  not  unlawfully  taken. 

11.  Go  hack  and  search  for  your  cameL 

12.  They  discovered,  the  animal  only  a  few  miles  from  the  place^ 


138  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

IJXll.—THE  SAILOR'S  MOTHER. 

I. 

ONE  morning  (raw  it  was  and  wet — 
A  foggy  day  in  winter  time) 
A  woman  on  the  road  I  met, 
Not  old,  though  something  past  her  prime: 
Majestic  in  her  person,  tall  and  straight ; 
And  like  a  Roman  matron's  was  her  mien  and  gait. 

n. 

The  ancient  spirit  is  not  dead; 

Old  times,  thought  I,  are  breathing  there ; 

Proud  was  I  that  my  country  bred 

Such  strength,  a  dignity  so  fair: 

She  begged  an  alms  like  one  in  poor  estate; 

I  looked  at  her  again,  nor  did  my  pride  abate. 

III. 
When  from  these  lofty  thoughts  I  woke, 
"  What  is  it,"  said  I,  "  that  you  bear 
Beneath  the  covert  of  your  cloak, 
Protected  from  this  cold  damp  air?" 
She  answered,  soon  as  she  the  question  heard, 
"  A  simple  burthen,  sir,  a  little  singing  bird." 

IV. 

And,  thus  continuing,  she  said, 

"  I  had  a  son,  who  many  a  day 

Sailed  on  the  seas,  but  he  is  dead ; 

In  Denmark  he  was  cast  away : 

And  I  have   traveled  weary  miles  to  see 

If  aught  that  he  had  owned  might  still  remain  for  me. 

V. 

"The  bird  and  cage  they  both  were  his: 
'Twas  my  son's  bird;  and  neat  and  trim 
He  kept  it:  many  voyages 
The  singing  bird  had  gone  with  him ; 
When  last  he  sailed,  he  left  the  bird  behind ; 
From  bodings.  as  might  be,  that  hung  upon  his  mind." 

W.  Wordsworth. 


THE  MOUNTAIN   BROOK.  139 


LXIII.— r^^  MOUJfTAIJV  BROOK. 

AWAY  up  among  the  mountains  a  tiny  spring  burst 
out.  It  trickled  along  almost  silently  at  first,  but  it 
met  another  and  another  little  spring,  and,  rolling  together 
down  the  mountain  side,  they  tumbled  over  a  rock  and 
spread  into  a  dancing,  singing,  glistening  brook. 

2.  Stillness  and  shadow  around  as  yet,  only  a  little  nook 
wherein  to  play,  the  brook-spirit  longed  for  more  sunlight 
and  wider  scope.  The  breezes  whispered  to  her  of  broad 
lakes  embosomed  among  wooded  hills — of  deep,  blue  rivers 
flowing  through  wide  meadow-lands — of  the  vast  ocean 
gathering  them  all  home  at  last  to  itself.  Could  she  do 
and  be  nothing  beyond  her  present  life?  The  shadows 
deepened  and  she  sang  less  jcheerily. 

3.  A  robin  flew  down  to  drink  of  the  clear  water,  and 
then,  perching  on  a  green  bough  above,  trilled  forth  its 
happy  song.  Squirrels  and  rabbits  leaped  along  through 
the  rustling  grass  to  her  side,  and  went  away  refreshed  and 
glad.  The  merry  little  minnows  darted  to  and  fro  in  her 
shallow  basin,  happy  through  her ;  for  even  their  life  was 
dependent  on  the  home  and  supply  she  gave  them. 

4.  The  ferns  and  grasses  in  their  fresh  greenery,  gold- 
crowned  cowslips  and  buttercups,  tiny  pearl-flowers  and 
blue  violets  bloomed  beside  her,  giving  fragrance  and 
beauty  in  return  for  her  benison  of  life  and  growth ;  and 
the  glad  sunshine  threw  its  mantle  of  blessing  over  one 
and  all.  It  silvered  her  tiny  waves  more  and  more,  as, 
flowing  on  contentedly,  she  bathed  the  roots  of  a  young 
cherry  tree. 

5.  And  then  the  brook  noted  that  none  of  these  lived  to 
themselves  alone.  The  tree  gave  its  fruit  to  the  birds,  and 
afforded  quiet,  shaded  resting-places  for  their  nests.  The 
birds  brooded  and  fed  their  little  ones.  The  rabbits  and 
squirrels  were  busy  carrying  home  food  to  their  families. 
The  elder,  which  bloomed  beside  her,  gave  its  blossoms  to 


140  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

make  tea  for  a  sick  cliiid,  as  she  learned  from  the  talk  of 
two  little  girls  who  came  for  them.  She  was  restless,  they 
said,  and  it  would  soothe  her  to  sleep.  All  were  busy,  all 
contented. 

6.  The  brook  had  learned  her  lesson.  She  rippled  gladly 
on,  bearing  health  and  freshness  to  all  she  touched,  know- 
ing not  how  beautiful  was  the  melody  she  sang,  but 
making  her  way  more  and  more  out  of  the  shadows  and 
into  the  sunlight.  Another  and  another  brook  met  hei 
on  her  course  through  rolling  meadows,  golden  in  sun- 
shine. 

7.  Onward,  ever  onward,  active  and  cheery,  she  flowed, 
bearing  blessings  wherever  she  went  and  reflecting  the  sun- 
light of  heaven.  Far  back  amid  mountain  solitudes  and 
shady  woods  the  little  brook  could  still  be  traced ;  but  a 
deep,  calm,  broad  river  rolled. through  meadow-lands  and 
between  shores  of  changing  scenery — forest,  field,  and  hill, 

and  happy  human  homes. 

"The  Children's  Hour." 


LXIY—J^  RAIJfBOW. 
I. 

THE  flowers  live  by  the  tears  that  fall 
From  the  sad  face  of  the  skies, 
And  life  would  have  no  joys  at  all 
Were  there  no  watery  eyes. 


II. 

Love  thou  thy  sorrow;  grief  shall  bring 

Its  own  excuse  in  after  years; 
The  rainbow!  see  how  fair  a  thing 

God  hath  built  up  from  tears. 

Henry  Sutton. 


FREDERICK    AND    HIS   PAGE. 


141 


« Willi II II  , Hi,,, 


IJiN.— FREDERICK  AKB  HIS  PAGE, 

FREDERICK  the  Great,  King  of  Prussia,  one  day  rang 
his  bell,  and,  nobody  answering,  he  opened  his  door, 
and  found  his  page  fast  asleep  in  an  elbow-chair.  He  ad- 
vanced toward  him,  and  was  going  to  awaken  him,  when 
he  perceived  a  letter  hanging  out  of  his  pocket. 

2.  His  curiosity  prompting  him  to  know  what  it  was,  he 
took  it  out  and  read  it.  As  he  was  a  very  loving  and  kind- 
hearted  king,  let  us  forgive  his  doing  what  even  he  had  no 
right  to  do  without  leave. 

3.  It  was  a  letter  frcm  this  young  man's  mother,  in  which 
she  thanked  him  for  having  sent  her  a  part  of  his  wages  to 


142  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

relieve  her  misery,  and  finished  with  telling  him  that  God 
would  reward  him  for  his  dutiful  affection. 

4.  The  king,  after  reading  it,  went  back  softly  into  his 
chamber,  took  a  bag  full  of  ducats,  and  slipped  it  with  the 
letter  into  the  page's  pocket. 

5.  Returning  to  the  chamber,  he  rang  the  bell  so  loudly 
that  it  awakened  the  page,  who  instantly  made  his  appear- 
ance.    "  You  have  had  a  sound  sleep,"  said  the  king. 

6  The  page  was  at  a  loss  how  to  excuse  himself,  and  put= 
ting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  to  his  utter  astonishment  he 
there  found  a  purse  of  ducats.  He  took  it  out,  turned  pale, 
and,  looking  at  the  king,  burst  into  tears  without  being  able 
to  utter  a  single  word. 

7.  "What  is  the  matter?" 

8.  "Ah,  sire,"  said  the  young  man,  throwing  himself  on 
his  knees,  "  somebody  seeks  my  ruin ;  I  know  nothing  of 
this  money  which  I  have  just  found  in  my  pocket  1 " 

9.  "  My  young  friend,"  said  Frederick,  "  God  often  does 
great  things  for  us  even  in  our  sleep;  send  that  to  your 
mother,  salute  her  on  my  part,  and  assure  her  that  I  will 
take  care  of  both  her  and  you." 


LXVL—TRU  SAILOR'S  SOJ^G. 
I. 

THE  sea!  the  sea!  the  open  sea! 
The  blue,  the  fresh,  the  ever  free ! 
Without  a  mark,  without  a  bound, 
It  runneth  the  earth's  wide  regions  round; 
It  plays  with  the  clouds;  it  mocks  the  skies; 
Or  like  a  cradled  creature  lies. 

II. 
I'm  on  the  sea!  I'm  on  the  sea! 
I  am  where  I  would  ever  be; 
With  the  blue  above,  and  the  blue  below, 
And  silence  wheresoe'er  I  go; 
If  a  storm  should  come  and  awake  the  deep, 
What  matter  ?  /  shall  ride  and  sleep. 


LINKS   IN  THE   CHAIN.  H3 

in. 
I  love,  oh,  how  I  love  to  ride 
On  the  fierce,  foaming,  bursting  tide, 
When  every  mad  wave  drowns  the  moon 
Or  whistles  aloft  his  tempest  tune. 
And  tells  how  goeth  the  world  below, 
And  why  the  sou'west  blasts  do  blow. 

IV. 

I  never  was  on  the  dull,  tame  shore. 
But  I  loved  the  great  sea  more  and  more, 
And  backward  flew  to  her  billowy  breast, 
Like  a  bird  that  seeketh  its  mother's  nest  • 
And  a  mother  she  was  and  is  to  me; 
For  I  was  born  on  the  open  sea! 

V. 

I  've  lived  since  then,  in  calm  and  strife, 
Full  fifty  summers  a  sailor's  life. 
With  wealth  to  spend  and  a  power  to  ranga 
But  never  have  sought  nor  sighed  for  change; 
And  Death,  whenever  he  comes  to  me. 
Shall  come  on  the  wild,  unbounded  sea ! 

B.  W.  Procter. 


LXVII.— Z/JVZ*^  JJV  THE  CHAIK. 

THE  blast  that  drove  the  storm-clouc  across  the  heavenft 
shook  the  oak,  and  the  acorn-cup,  loosened  from  its 
fruit,  fell  on  the  pathway.  The  cloud  burst;  a  raindrop 
filled  the  acorn-cup. 

2.  A  robin,  wearied  by  the  sultry  heat  of  an  autumn 
day,  and  troubled  by  the  fury  of  the  storm,  hopped  on  the 
path  when  all  was  calm,  and  drank  of  the  raindrop.  Re- 
freshed and  gladdened,  he  flew  to  his  accustomed  place  on 
the  ivy  that  overhung  the  poet's  window,  and  there  he 
trilled  his  sweetest,  happiest  song. 

3.  The  poet  heard,  and,  rising  from  his  reverie,  wrote  a 


144  THE   FOURTH    READER. 

chant  of  grateful  rejoicing.  The  chant  went  forth  into  the 
world,  and  entered  the  house  of  sorrow,  and  uttered  its 
heart-stirring  accents  by  the  couch  of  sickness.  The  sor- 
rowful were  comforted,  the  sick  were  cheered. 

4.  Many  voices  praised  the  poet.  He  said,  "  The  chant 
pv^as  inspired  by  the  robin's  song." 

5.  "  I  had  not  sung  so  well  if  I  had  not  drunk  of  th(i 
raindrop,"  said  the  robin. 

6.  "  I  should  have  sunk  into  the  earth  had  not  the  acorn- 
cup  received  me,"  said  the  raindrop. 

7.  "  I  had  not  been  there  to  receive  you  but  for  the  angry 
blast,"  said  the  acorn-cup. 

8.  And  so  they  that  were  comforted  praised  the  blast; 
but  the  blast  replied,  "Praise  Him  at  whose  word  the 
stormy  wind  ariseth,  and  who  from  darkness  can  bring 
light;  making  his  mercies  oftentimes  to  pass  through  un- 
seen, unknown,  and  unsuspected  channels,  and  bringing  in 
due  time,  by  his  own  way,  the  beautiful  song  from  the 

angry  storm-cloud." 

Mrs.  Prosser. 


LXVIII.— riT^  BUTTERFLY. 
I. 

I'VE  watched  you  now  a  full  half  hour, 
Self-poised  upon  that  yellow  flower; 
And,  little  butterfly,  indeed, 
I  know  not  if  you  sleep  or  feed! 
How  motionless!     Not  frozen  seas 

More  motionless !     And  then 
What  joy  awaits  you,  when  the  breeze 
Has  found  you  out  among  the  trees, 
And  calls  you  forth  again! 

n. 

This  plot  of  orchard  ground  is  ours; 
My  trees  they  are,  my  sister's  flowers. 
Here  rest  your  wings  when  they  are  weary; 
Here  lodge  as  in  a  sanctuary! 


I 


THE   LOST   GOLD   PIECE.  146 

Come  often  to  us;  fear  no  wrong, 

Sit  near  us  on  a  bough! 
We'll  talk  of  sunshine  and  of  song, 
And  summer  days  when  we  were  young; 
Sweet,  childish  days,  that  were  as  long 

As  twenty  days  are  now.  Wordsworth. 


luX.lK.—THE  LOST  GOLD  PIECE. 

ONE  day  a  large  number  of  guests  sat  at  the  dinner- 
table  of  the  principal  hotel  in  Dresden,  the  beautiful 
capital  of  Saxony.  Foreigners  and  native  Germans  sat  side 
by  side,  eating,  talking,  and  apparently  having  a  very  good 
time.  Suddenly  a  young  merchant,  who  had  traveled 
through  India,  attracted  the  attention  of  everybody  by 
holding  up  a  piece  of  gold  money  which  he  had  brought 
with  him  from  that  country.  The  coin  was  eight-cornered, 
and  had  very  strange  figures  on  both  sides  of  it.  The  com- 
pany present  were  greatly  surprised  to  see  such  a  beautiful 
and  queer  piece  of  money,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  they 
admired  it. 

2.  The  gentleman  owning  it  let  it  pass  around  the  table, 
and  a  good  many  remarks  were  made  about  how  such  a 
queer  piece  of  money  could  have  been  prepared.  Finally 
it  reached  the  hands  of  a  gentleman  sitting  at  the  end  of 
the  table,  who  was  apparently  an  officer  of  high  rank,  and 
who  had  been  so  intent  upon  conversation  with  his  neigh- 
bor that  he  was  really  the  only  one  in  the  company  who 
had  not  paid  much  attention  to  the  curious  coin.  He 
looked  at  it  a  moment,  noticed  the  figures  with  some  in- 
difference, and  then  laid  it  down  on  the  table,  saying, 
''Oh,  I  know  that  piece  of  money  already;  I  have  seen 
one  before,"  and  continued  his  conversation. 

3.  Shortly  afterwards  the  people  began  to  talk  about 
other  things,  and  the  piece  of  money  was  apparently  for- 
gotten.    As  the  dinner — which  lasted  a  good  while — drew 

4  10 


146  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

to  a  close,  the  young  merchant  who  owned  the  money 
looked  around  upon  the  guests,  and  said,  "  Will  the  gen- 
tleman to  whom  my  piece  of  money  was  handed  last  be 
kind  enough  to  give  it  to  me  again,  for  I  have  not  yet 
received  it  ?  " 

4.  The  people  were  greatly  astonished  at  this  remark, 
and  wondered  that  he  had  not  received  the  money  agaiuo 
Every  one  declared  that  he  had  passed  it  on  to  the  one 
sitting  next  to  him,  but  nobody  seemed  able  to  tell  what 
had  become  of  it.  The  company  were  in  great  surprise  at 
the  thought  that  a  thief  could  possibly  be  in  their  number, 
and  yet  it  did  seem  that  somebody  had  taken  the  gold 
coin. 

5.  Finally,  when  the  money  could  not  be  found,  an  old 
gentleman  arose  and  said,  in  a  loud  voice,  "Gentlemen, 
since  every  one  of  you  says  he  has  not  got  the  piece  of 
money,  and  since  all  of  us  in  this  dining-room  are  respon- 
sible to  you  for  it,  I  propose  to  you  that  each  one  have  his 
pockets  searched  by  the  landlord,  and  I  am  willing  that 
mine  should  be  searched  first.  The  landlord  and  I  will 
take  our  position  at  the  door,  and  I  propose  that  nobody 
leave  the  hall  until  the  landlord  has  examined  his  pockets. 
In  fact,  there  is  nothing  else  that  we  can  do,  if  we  want  to 
save  ourselves  against  the  supposition  that  some  one  of  us 
is  a  thief" 

6.  It  appeared  that  everybody  was  agreed  to  this  propo- 
sition, and  one  after  another  had  his  pockets  searched  by 
the  landlord.  Finally,  the  officer  who  had  given  but  little 
attention  to  the  piece  of  money  when  it  was  handed  to 
him,  said,  "  Gentlemen,  I  do  not  agree  to  have  my  pockets 
searched,  though  I  give  you  my  honor  as  a  soldier  that  I 
do  not  have  in  my  possession  the  piece  of  money.  Here  is 
my  name,  and  that  is  all  I  can  submit  to." 

7.  All  eyes  were  now  directed  to  this  officer,  and  imme- 
diately every  one  else  seemed  to  have  a  suspicion  that  he 
was  the  one  who  had  the  money  in  his  pocket.  Several 
said  to  him  that,  as  they  had  been  searched,  it  was  nothing 


THE   LOST   GOLD   PIECE.  147 

more  than  right  that  he  should  be  also.  But  he  protested 
against  it,  and  said  that  he  would  submit  to  it  under  no 
condition  whatever. 

8.  "Then,"  said  they,  "we  shall  have  to  consider  that 
you  are  the  thief,  unless  you  agree  to  have  your  pockets 
searched." 

.  9.  "  I  am  no  thief,  gentlemen ;  and  yet  I  will  not  consent 
to  have  my  pockets  searched." 

10.  Just  in  the  midst  of  the  excitement,  a  rap  was  heard 
at  the  door.  The  landlord  opened  it,  and  seeing  the  chief 
waiter  of  the  hotel  before  him,  asked  him  what  he  desired. 

11.  "I  wish  to  tell  you,  sir,"  said  he,  " that  in  one  of  the 
napkins  which  has  just  been  brought  from  the  table  there 
was  found  this  gold  piece,  which  fell  out  when  the  napkin 
was  thrown  into  the  pile  of  soiled  ones.  I  have  come  to 
give  it  to  you  that  you  may  return  it  to  the  owner." 

12.  The  whole  company  were  greatly  surprised,  and  there 
was  a  universal  feeling  of  satisfaction;  and  those  people 
who  had  accused  the  officer  of  being  a  thief  felt  very  much 
ashamed  of  themselves,  and  would  have  been  glad  to  find 
any  place  in  which  to  hide. 

13.  The  officer  now  seeing  that  they  could  no  more  call 
iiim  thief,  stood  up  before  the  company  and  said,  "  Gentle- 
inen,  I  think  you  will  now  allow  me  the  privilege  of  saying 
a  word.  The  reason  why  I  did  not  allow  my  pockets  to  be 
searched  was,  that  I  had  in  my  portmonnaie  a  piece  of  gold 
just  like  the  piece  which  the  waiter  has  returned  to  the 
owner.  If  it  had  been  found  in  my  pocket,  and  the  other 
piece  had  never  been  found,  I  would  have  been  called,  and 
with  some  show  of  reason  perhaps,  a  thief.  There  are 
strange  things  in  this  world,  and  we  can  never  be  too  sure 
we  are  right.     See,  here  is  my  piece  of  money ! " 

14.  And  with  that,  the  officer  took  out  a  piece  of  gold 
which  was  in  every  respect  like  that  owned  by  the  mer- 
chant. 


148  THE   FOURTH   READER. 


A 


IjXX.— BEAUTY. 
I. 
YOUI^G  lady  sought  out  a  fairy's  green  bowers, 


The  queen  sat  enshrined  in  her  kingdom  of  flower;^ 
"  A  boon,"  said  the  maiden ;  "  I  crave  it  from  thee ; 
Give  beauty,  give  beauty,  good  fairy,  to  me." 

II. 
The  queen,  from  the  bell  of  a  wild  flower,  drew 
Two  caskets,  each  wet  with  the  bright  morning  dew; 
The  one,  a  plain  box  from  the  leaf  of  a  vine. 
The  other,  as  gay  as  a  gem  from  the  mine. 

in. 
"Thy  choice,"  said  the  fairy;  "and  on  it  depends 
The  kind  of  that  beauty  I  give  to  my  friends; 
For  know,  little  maiden,"  she  added  with  grace, 
"There  is  beauty  of  heart  and  beauty  of  face." 

IV. 

A  moment  of  doubt,  and  her  wish  was  expressed; 
The  prize  was  selected  the  lady  loved  best; 
And,  little  surprised,  the  fairy  queen  heard 
The  gay  little  casket  was  the  one  she  preferred. 

V. 

They  parted.     A  few  years  had  rolled  swiftly  away, 
When  the  fairy  was  sought  by  the  lady  one  day. 
The  gift  she  rejected  far  brighter  had  grown. 
While  that  she  selected  was  faded  and  gone. 

VI. 

The  sad  lesson  now  was  revealed  to  her  plain, 
That  "beauty  of  face"  was  but  transient  and  vain. 
So  all  little  misses  should  act  a  wise  part, 
And  early  make  choice  of  the  "Beauty  oi  Heart.'' 


THE   KING   AND   THE   GOOSE-HERD-  149 


LXXI.—THE  KIJfG  AKB  THE  GOOSE-HERD, 

" /^OBBLER,  stick  to  thy  last!"  This  proverb  was 
\^  never  so  royally  exemplified  as  it  was  in  the  fol- 
lowing true  history,  the  principal  actor  in  which  was  Maxi- 
milian Joseph,  of  Bavaria,  one  of  the  most  loving  as  well 
as  one  of  the  most  beloved  monarchs  that  ever  wielded  a 
scepter. 

2.  On  one  hot  summer  day,  King  Maximilian,  clad  in 
very  plain  habiliments,  had  gone  out  alone,  as  was  his 
wont,  to  walk  in  the  fine  park  which  surrounded  his  castle, 
and  after  a  time  drew  a  volume  from  his  pocket  and  seated 
himself  on  a  bench  to  read.  The  sultriness  of  the  air  and 
the  perfect  stillness  of  the  place  made  his  eyes  heavy,  and, 
laying  down  his  book  on  the  bench  beside  him,  the  monarch 
fell  into  a  doze. 

3.  His  slumber  did  not  last  long,  however,  and  on  awaking 
he  rose  to  continue  his  walk,  but  forgot  his  book,  and  left  it 
lying  on  the  bench.  Wandering  onward  from  one  division 
of  the  extensive  park  to  another,  he  at  length  passed  beyond 
its  limits,  and  entered  on  those  grassy  downs  which  stretch 
down  to  the  margin  of  the  lake. 

4.  All  at  once  the  king  remembered  his  book,  and  thfe 
,  possibility  that  it  might  be  seen  and  appropriated  by  some 

stranger  passing  by.  Unwilling  to  lose  a  book  he  valued, 
and  equally  unwilling  to  retrace  the  way  he  had  come, 
while  the  lake  path  to  the  castle  lay  temptingly  before 
him,  the  king  looked  round  in  every  direction  for  some  one 
whom  he  could  send  for  the  volume ;  but  the  only  human 
being  within  view  was  a  boy  tending  a  large  flock  of  geese. 

5.  The  monarch,  therefore,  went  up  to  him  and  said, — 

"  Hearken,  my  lad.  Dost  think  thou  couldst  find  for  me 
a  book  I  left  in  such  and  such  a  part  of  the  park  ?  You 
will  get  twen.y-five  cents  for  bringing  it  to  me." 

6.  The  boy,  who  had  never  before  seen  the  king,  cast  a 
most  incredulous  look  on  the  corpulent  gentleman  who 


J  60  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

made  him  so  astounding  a  proffer,  and  then  turned  away 
saying,  with  an  air  of  comical  resentment, — 
••  I  am  not  so  stupid  as  you  take  me  for." 

7.  "  Why  do  you  think  I  consider  you  stupid  ? "  asked 
the  monarch. 

8.  "  Because  you  offer  me  twenty-five  cents  for  so  trifling 
a  service.  So  much  money  cannot  be  earned  so  easily,'' 
was  the  sturdy  reply. 

9.  "  Now,  indeed,"  said  the  king,  smiling  good-humor- 
edly,  "  I  must  think  thee  a  simpleton.  Why  do  you  thus 
doubt  my  word  ?  " 

10.  "  Those  up  yonder,"  replied  the  boy,  pointing  in  the 
direction  of  the  distant  castle,  "  are  ready  enough  to  make 
sport  of  the  like  of  us ;  and  ye  're  one  of  them,  I  'm 
thinking." 

11.  "And  suppose  I  were?"  said  the  king.  "But  see, 
here  are  the  twenty-five  cents;  take  them,  and  fetch  me 
the  book." 

12.  The  herd-boy's  eyes  sparkled  as  he  held  actually  in 
his  hands  a  sum  of  money  nearly  equal  to  the  hard  coin 
of  his  summer's  herding,  and  yet  he  hesitated. 

13.  "  How  now  ?  "  cried  the  king.  "  Why  don't  you  set 
off  at  once?" 

14.  "  I  would  fain  do  it,  but  I  dare  not,"  said  the  poor  fel- 
low ;  "  for  if  the  villagers  hear  I  have  left  the  plaguy  geese, 
they  will  turn  me  off,  and  how  shall  I  earn  my  bread  then  ? "" 

15.  "  Simpleton ! "  exclaimed  the  king.  "  I  will  herd  the 
geese  till  you  return." 

16.  "You!"  said  the  rustic,  with  a  most  contemptuous 
elongation  of  the  pronoun.  "You  would  make  a  pretty 
goose-herd !  you  are  much  too  fat  and  much  too  stiff. 
Suppose  they  broke  away  from  you  now  and  got  into  the 
rich  meadow  yonder;  I  should  have  more  trespass-money 
to  pay  than  my  year's  wages  come  to.  Just  look  at  the 
'Court  Gardener'  there — him  with  the  black  head  and 
wings ;  he  is  a  regular  deserter,  a  false  knave ;  he  is,  for  all 
the  world,  like  one  of  the  court  people,  and  they,  we  all 


THE  KING  AND   THE   GOOSE-HERD.  151 

know,  are  good  for  nothing.     He  would  lead  you  a  fine 
dance !     Nay,  it  would  never  do." 

17.  The  king  felt  ready  to  burst  with  suppressed  laughter, 
but,  mastering  himself,  asked,  with  tolerable  composure, — 

"  Why  can  I  not  keep  geese  in  order  as  easily  as  men  ?  1 
have  plenty  of  them  to  control." 

18.  "  You ! "  again  said  the  boy,  sneeringly,  as  he  measured 
the  monarch  from  head  to  foot.  "  They  must  be  silly  ones, 
then.  But  perhaps  you  're  a  schoolmaster.  Yet,  even  if  ye 
be,  it  is  much  easier  to  manage  boys  than  geese ;  that  I  can 
tell  ye." 

19.  "It  may  be  so,"  said  the  king;  "but  come,  make 
short  work.     Will  you  bring  the  book,  or  will  you  not  ?  " 

20.  '^  I  would  gladly  do  it,"  stammered  the  boy,  "  but — " 
"  1 11  be  answerable  for  the  geese,"  cried  the  king,  "  and 

pay  all  damages,  if  such  there  be." 

21.  This  decided  the  question;  and  so,  after  exacting  a 
promise  that  his  substitute  would  pay  particular  attention 
to  the  doings  of  the  stately  gander,  whom  he  designated  as 
the  Court  Gardener,  he  placed  the  whip  in  the  king's  hands 
and  set  off  on  his  errand.  But  scarcely  had  he  gone  a  few 
yards  when  he  turned  back  again. 

22.  "  What  is  the  matter  now  ?  "  called  out  the  king. 

23.  "Crack  the  whip ! "  resounded  in  return. 

The  monarch  swung  it  with  his  best  effort,  but  procured 
no  sounding  whack. 

24.  "I  thought  so!"  exclaimed  the  rustic.  "A  school- 
master, forsooth,  and  cannot  crack  a  whip  ! " 

25.  So  saying,  he  snatched  the  whip  from  the  king's 
hand,  and  began,  with  more  zeal  than  success,  to  instruct 
him  in  the  science  of  whip-cracking.  The  king,  though 
scarcely  able  to  contain  himself,  tried  in  right  earnest,  and 
at  length  succeeded  in  extracting  a  tolerably  sharp  report 
from  the  leathern  instrument  of  authority;  and  the  boy, 
after  once  more  trying  to  impress  the  duties  of  his  respon- 
sible office  on  his  temporary  substitute,  ran  off  at  full  speed 
in  the  direction  the  king  had  indicated. 


162  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

26.  The  monarch,  who  could  now  indulge  in  a  hearty 
laugh,  sat  himself  down  on  a  tree-stump  which  the  goose- 
herd  had  previously  occupied  to  await  the  return  of  his 
messenger.  But  it  really  seemed  as  if  his  feathered  charge 
had  discovered  that  the  whip  was  no  longer  wielded  by 
their  accustomed  prompt  and  vigilant  commander,  for  the 
treacherous  Court  Gardener  suddenly  stretched  out  his 
long  neck,  and,  after  reconnoitering  on  all  sides,  uttered 
two  or  three  shrill  screams. 

27.  Upon  this,  as  if  a  tempest  had  all  at  once  rushed 
under  the  multitude  of  wings,  the  whole  flock  rose  simul- 
taneously into  the  air,  and,  before  the  king  could  recover 
from  his  surprise,  they  were  careering  with  loud  screams 
towards  the  rich  meadows  bordering  on  the  lake,  over 
which  they  quickly  spread  themselves  in  all  possible 
directions. 

28.  At  the  first  outburst,  the  royal  herdsman  called, 
"Halt!"  with  all  his  might.  He  brandished,  and  tried 
hard  to  crack,  the  whip,  but  extracted  no  sound  which 
could  intimidate  the  Court  Gardener.  He  then  ran  to  and 
fro,  until,  streaming  with  perspiration  and  yielding  to  ad- 
verse fate,  he  reseated  himself  on  the  tree-stump,  and^ 
leaving  the  geese  to  their  own  devices,  quietly  awaited  the 
return  of  his  messenger.  c 

29.  "The  boy  was  right,  after  all,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  It 
is  easier  to  govern  a  couple  of  millions  of  men  than  a  flock 
of  '  plaguy  geese ;'  and  a  Court  Gardener  can  do  a  deal  of 
mischief." 

30.  Meanwhile  the  boy  had  reached  the  bench,  found  the 
book,  and  sped  back  in  triumph,  little  dreaming  of  the  dis- 
comfiture his  substitute  had  experienced;  but  when,  on 
coming  close  up  to  the  king,  he  looked  round  in  vain  for 
nis  charge,  and,  still  worse,  when  their  vociferous  cackling 
led  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  forbidden  meadow,  he 
was  so  overwhelmed  that,  letting  fall  the  book,  he  ex- 
claimed, half  crying  with  vexation, — 

"  There  we  have  it !    I  knew  how  it  would  be.    Did  I  not 


THE   KING   AND   THE   GOOSE-HERD.  153 

say  from  the  first  you  understood  nothing?  And  what  is 
to  be  done  now  ?  I  can  never  get  them  together  by  myself. 
You  must  help ;  that 's  a  fact." 

31.  The  king  consented.  The  herd-boy  placed  him  at 
one  corner,  showed  him  how  to  move  his  outstretched  arms 
up  and  down,  whilst  he  must  shout  with  all  his  might; 
and  then  the  boy  set  out  himself,  whip  in  hand,  to  gather 
in  the  farthest  scattered  of  the  flock. 

32.  The  king  did  his  best,  and,  after  terrible  exertions 
the  cackling  runaways  were  once  more  congregated  on  their 
allotted  territory. 

33.  But  now  the  boy  gave  free  vent  to  his  indignation,, 
rated  the  king  soundly  for  neglect,  and  wound  up  all  by 
declaring, — 

"  Never  shall  any  one  get  my  whip  from  me  again,  or 
tempt  me  with  twenty -five  cents  to  give  up  my  geese ;  no, 
not  to  the  king  himself" 

34.  "  You  are  right  there,  my  fine  fellow,"  said  the  good- 
natured  Maximilian,  bursting  into  a  laugh;  "he  under- 
stands goose-herding  quite  as  little  as  I  do." 

35.  "And  you  laugh  at  it  into  the  bargain!"  said  the 
boy,  in  high  dudgeon. 

36.  "  Well,  look  ye  now,"  said  the  monarch ;  "  I  am  the 
king." 

37.  "You!"  once  more  reiterated  the  indignant  goose- 
herd.  "  I  am  not  such  a  flat  as  to  believe  that ;  not  I.  So 
lift  up  your  book  and  get  along  with  you." 

38.  The  king  quietly  took  up  his  book,  saying,  as  he 
handed  fifty  cents  additional  to  the  lad, — 

"  Don't  be  angry  with  me,  my  boy.  I  give  you  my  word 
I  '11  never  undertake  to  herd  geese  again." 

39.  The  boy  fixed  a  doubting  gaze  on  the  mysterious 
donor  of  such  unexampled  wealth,  then  added,  with  a  wise 
shake  of  the  head, — 

"  You  're  a  kind  gentleman,  whoever  you  may  be ;  bul 
you  '11  never  make  a  good  goose-herd." 


154 


THE   FOURTH    READER. 


LXXlL—THi:  JOLLY  OLD  CROW. 
I. 

ON  the  limb  of  an  oak  sat  a  jolly  old  crow, 
And  chatted  away  with  glee,  with  glee, 
As  he  saw  the  old  farmer  go  out  to  sow. 
And  he  cried,  ''  It 's  all  for  me,  for  me ! 

II. 
"  Look,  look,  how  he  scatters  his  seeds  around ; 

He  is  wonderful  kind  to  the  poor,  the  poor; 
If  he  'd  empty  it  down  in  a  pile  on  the  ground, 

I  could  find  it  much  better,  I  'm  sure,  I  'm  sure ! 


III. 


"I've  learned  all  the  tricks  of  this  wonderful  man. 
Who  has  such  a  regard  for  the  crow,  the  crow. 

That  he  lays  out  his  grounds  in  a  regular  plan, 
And  covers  his  corn  in  a  row,  a  rowl 


LESS  SPEED.  165 

IV. 

"He  must  have  a  very  great  fancy  for  me; 

He  tries  to  entrap  me  enough,  enough ; 
But  I  measure  his  distance  as  well  as  he, 

And  when  he  comes  near,  I  'm  off,  I  'm  off !  " 


LXXUL—MOBJ^  HASTE,  LESS  SPEED. 

''  ^\  HALL  I  reach  Tournay  to-night  before  the  gates  are 
J^^  shut  ?  "  asked  a  wagoner,  who  was  driving  an  empty 
cart  drawn  by  a  pair  of  horses  at  great  speed,  of  another 
whom  he  passed  driving  a  similar  vehicle  slowly  along  a 
high-road  of  France.  "  Shall  I  be  able  to  get  there  to-night 
before  they  shut  the  gates  ?  "  he  repeated  impatiently. 

2.  "  Yes,  you  '11  be  in  plenty  of  time  if  you  drive  slowly," 
replied  the  second  wagoner ;  and  he  proceeded  on  his  way, 
while  the  first  drove  rapidly  by,  exclaiming : — 

3.  "  A  pretty  way  to  get  to  one's  destination — to  drive 
slowly  and  waste  time  on  the  road !  No,  no,  that  won't 
suit  me !  I'll  go  as  fast  as  my  horses  can  lay  legs  to  the 
ground."  And  he  shook  the  reins  and  urged  his  horses  to 
still  greater  speed. 

4.  Meanwhile  the  driver  who  had  given  him  the  good 
advice  proceeded  slowly  on  his  way.  Presently  he  noticed 
that  one  of  his  horses  had  lost  a  nail  from  one  of  its  shoes. 

6.  "This  won't  do,"  said  the  driver;  "best  remedy  a 
small  evil  at  once." 

6.  So  he  drove  on  as  carefully  as  possible,  lest  the  shoe 
that  was  clapping  in  a  loose  manner  on  the  road  should  fall 
off  altogether.  And  at  the  next  smithy  he  halted,  and  un- 
harnessed the  good  old  horse  from  the  wagon.  The  smith 
brought  out  his  tools,  and  in  a  few  minutes  honest  Ball's 
shoe  was  fixed  on  as  tight  as  ever. 

7.  "  Only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  lost,"  he  said,  "  but  we 
can  move  all  the  more  briskly  for  the  delay;  so  here  we 
start  again." 


156  THE   FOURTH   HEADER. 

8.  Thus  he  went  on  steadily  and  perse veringly,  and 
arrived  at  Tournay  a  full  quarter-hour  before  the  gates 
were  shut. 

9.  And  how  fared  it  with  the  other  wagoner,  who  could 
not  afford  to  go  steadily,  lest  he  should  arrive  too  late  ? 
Listen,  and  you  shall  hear. 

10.  He  drove  on,  increasing  his  speed  as  the  time  wore 
on.  Presently,  he  noticed  that  one  of  his  horses  began  to 
limp. 

11.  "  Foolish  beast ! "  he  said,  "  who  is  to  get  down  now, 
I  wonder,  to  look  after  your  ailments  ?  If  you  've  a  stone 
in  your  foot,  you  may  shake  it  out  as  best  you  can.  I  can- 
not afford  to  wait  for  you  to-day." 

12.  And  he  gave  the  poor  horse  a  loud  crack  with  the 
whip  on  the  back,  so  that  it  gave  a  plunge,  and  stumbled 
on  faster  than  before. 

13.  The  horse  began  to  limp  more  than  ever.  The  stone 
was  still  there,  and  the  hoof  was  becoming  bruised  and 
sore;  but  the  wagoner  would  not  stop  a  moment.  But 
now  a  rough  piece  of  road  is  to  be  traversed,  surely  our 
driver  will  check  his  speed  here,  and  proceed  slowly  ? 

14.  But  no ;  he  only  thinks  of  getting  to  his  destination 
as  quickly  as  possible.  He  urges  on  his  horses ;  the  poor 
beast  who  has  fallen  lame  gives  a  desperate  plunge,  and 
falling  down,  breaks  the  pole  of  the  wagon  asunder. 

15.  No  thought  of  reaching  Tournay  that  night.  The 
best  thing  to  be  done  is  to  seek  assistance  at  the  next  farm- 
house, and  go  in  quest  of  a  carpenter  or  wheelwright  to 
mend  the  broken  pole. 

16.  And  the  wheelwright,  when  he  comes,  says  that  the 
necessary  repairs  will  occupy  at  least  twenty-four  hours, 
and  that  he  cannot  drive  his  wagon  into  Tournay  until  the 
second  day  after  the  accident. 

17.  Then  the  driver  wished  he  had  taken  the  advice  of 
his  comrade,  and  made  less  haste  in  the  first  instance  to 
get  on ;  and  he  understood  how  much  truth  there  is  in  the 
saying,  The  more  haste,  the  less  speed. 


THE   POOR   TAVERN-KEEPER.  157 

LXXIY.— THE  LIJVJ^ET  CHOIR. 

I. 

A  LINNET  choir  sang  in  a  chestnut  crown,— 
A  hundred,  perhaps,  or  more, — 
Till  the  stream  of  their  song  ran  warbUng  down 

And  entered  a  cottage  door; 
And  this  was  the  burden  of  their  lay. 

As  they  piped  in  the  yellow  tree: 
"I  love  my  sweet  little  lady-bird. 

And  know  that  she  loves  me: 
'  Chip,  chip,  cherry  chip,  cherry,  cherry,  cherry  chip ! ' 
We  linnets  are  a  merry  band, 
A  happy  company." 

n. 
It  chanced  that  a  poet  passed  that  way, 

With  a  quick  and  merry  thought, 
And,  listening  to  the  roundelay, 

His  ear  their  language  caught : 
Quoth  he,  as  he  heard  the  minstrels  sing, 

"  What  heavenly  harmony  ! 
I  shall  steal  that  song  and  carry  it  home 

To  my  dear  family — 
'  Chip,  chip,  cherry  chip,  cherry,  cherry,  cherry  chip ! ' " 
And  that  song  they  sing  now  every  eve, 
His  children,  wife,  and  he.  Capebn. 


LXXYr-THE  POOR  TAYERK-KEEPER. 

IN  a  little  town,  five  miles  from  St.  Petersburg,  lived  a 
poor  German  woman.  A  small  cottage  was  her  only 
possession,  and  the  visits  of  a  few  shipmasters,  on  their  way 
to  St.  Petersburg,  were  her  only  source  of  livelihood. 

2.  Several  Dutch  shipmasters  having  supped  at  her  house 
one  evening,  she  found,  when  they  were  gone,  a  sealed  bag 
of  money  under  the  table.  Some  one  of  the  company  had 
no  doubt  forgotten  it,  but  they  had  sailed  over  to  Cron- 
stadt,  and  the  wind  being  fair,  there  was  no  chance  of  their 
putting  back. 


158  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

3.  The  woman  placed  the  bag  in  her  cupboard,  to  keep 
it  till  it  should  be  called  for.  Full  seven  years,  however, 
elapsed,  and  no  one  claimed  it ;  and  though  often  tempted 
by  opportunity,  and  oftener  by  want,  to  make  use  of  the 
contents,  the  poor  woman's  good  principles  prevailed,  and 
it  remained  untouched. 

4.  One  evening,  some  shipmasters  again  stopped  at  her 
house  for  refreshments.  Three  of  them  were  English,  and 
the  fourth  a  Dutchman.  Conversing  on  various  matters, 
one  of  them  asked  the  Dutchman  if  he  had  ever  been  in 
that  town  before. 

5.  " Indeed  I  have,"  replied  he ;  "I  know  the  place  but 
too  well.  My  being  here  cost  me  once  seven  hundred 
rubles."* 

6.  "How  so?" 

"  Why,  in  one  of  these  wretched  hovels  I  once  left  behind 
me  a  bag  of  rubles." 

7.  "Was  the  bag  sealed ?"  asked  the  woman,  who  was 
sitting  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  whose  attention  was 
aroused  by  the  subject. 

8.  "  Yes,  yes,  it  was  sealed,  and  with  this  very  seal  here 
at  my  watch-chain." 

9.  The  woman  knew  the  seal  instantly.  "Well,  then," 
said  she,  "by  that  you  may  recover  what  you  have  lost." 

10.  "  Recover  it,  mother !  No,  no ;  I  am  rather  too  old  to 
expect  that.  The  world  is  not  quite  so  honest.  Besides,  it 
is  full  seven  years  since  I  lost  the  money.  Say  no  more 
about  it,  it  always  makes  me  melancholy." 

11.  Meanwhile,  the  woman  slipped  out,  and  presently  re- 
turned with  the  bag.  "  See  here,"  said  she ;  "  honesty  is 
not  so  rare,  perhaps,  as  you  imagine ; "  and  she  threw  the 
bag  on  the  table. 

12.  We  can  easily  believe  that  the  Dutchman  was  as- 
tonished and  delighted  to  find  every  coin  in  the  bag  as  he 
had  left  it,  and  that  he  liberally  rewarded  her  fidelity  in 
keeping  it  for  him  so  long. 

*  Kussian  coins  worth  about  seventy-five  cents  each. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BLENHEIM.  159 

LXXVL—THi:  BATTLE  OF  BLEMHEIM 


IT  was  a  summer's  evening, 
Old  Kaspar's  work  was  done, 
And  he  before  his  cottage  door 

Was  sitting  in  the  sun; 
And  by  him  sported  on  the  green 
His  httle  grandchild  Wilhelmine. 

n. 
She  saw  her  brother  Peterkin 

Eoll  something  large  and  round, 
Which  he  beside  the  rivulet, 

In  playing  there,  had  found: 
He  came  to  ask  what  he  had  found, 
That  was  so  large,  and  smooth,  and  roimd. 

III. 
Old  Kaspar  took  it  from  the  boy, 

Who  stood  expectant  by; 
And  then  the  old  man  shook  his  head, 

And,  with  a  natural  sigh, 
"'Tis  some  poor  fellow's  skull,"  said  he, 
"Who  fell  in  the  great  victory! 

IV. 
"I  find  them  in  the  garden; 

There  are  many  here  about; 
And  often  when  I  go  to  plough. 

The  ploughshare  turns  them  out. 
For  many  thousand  men,"  said  he, 
"  Were  slain  in  that,  great  victory  ! " 

V. 

"Now,  tell  us  what  'twas  p11  about," 

Young  Peterkin  he  cries; 
And  little  Wilhelmine  looks  up 

With  wonder-waiting  eyes; 
"Now  tell  us  all  about  the  war. 
And  what  they  killed  each  other  for?" 


160  THE   FOUETH   EEADER. 

VI. 

"  It  was  the  English,"  Kaspar  cried, 
"Who  put  the  French  to  rout; 

But  what  they  killed  each  other  for 
I  could  not  well  make  out. 

But  everybody  said,"  quoth  he, 

"That  'twas  a  famous  victory! 

VII. 

"My  father  lived  at  Blenheim  then, 

Yon  little  stream  hard  by; 
They  burn'd  his  dwelling  to  the  ground 

And  he  was  forced  to  fly: 
So,  with  his  wife  and  child  he  fled. 
Nor  had  he  where  to  rest  his  head. 

VIII. 
"  With  fire  and  sword  the  country  round 

Was  wasted  far  and  wide; 
And  many  a  hapless  mother  then 

And  new-born  baby  died. 
But  things  like  that,  you  know,  must  be 
At  every  famous  victory. 

IX. 

"They  say  it  was  a  shocking  sight 

After  the  field  was  won; 
For  many  thousand  bodies  here 

Lay  rotting  in  the  sun. 
But  things  like  that,  you  know,  must  be 
After  a  famous  victory. 

X. 

"Great  praise  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  won 
And  our  good  prince  Eugene." 

"Why,  'twas  a  very  wicked  thing!" 
Said  little  Wilhelmine. 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  little  girl,"  quoth  he, 

•'It  was  a  famous  victory! 


THE  CAPTIVE   WOODCHUCK.  16) 

XI. 

"And  everybody  praised  the  Duke 

Who  this  great  fight  did  win." 
"But  what  good  came  of  it  at  last?" 

Quoth  Uttle  Peterkin. 
"  Why,  that  I  cannot  tell,"  said  he, 
"But 'twas  a  famous  victory!" 

SOUTHEY. 


LXXVII.— T^jE-  captive  WOODCHUCK. 

WHEN  Daniel  Webster  was  some  ten  or  twelve  years 
of  age,  the  vegetables  in  the  garden  of  his  father, 
who  was  a  farmer,  had  suffered  considerably  from  the 
depredations  of  a  woodchuck,  whose  hole  was  near  the 
premises.  Daniel  and  his  elder  brother,  Ezekiel,  finally 
succeeded  in  capturing  the  trespasser  in  a  trap. 

2.  "  Now  we  will  kill  the  thief,"  cried  Ezekiel.  "  You  've 
done  mischief  enough,  Mr.  Woodchuck,  and  you  shall  die." 

3.  "  No,  don't,"  begged  his  brother,  pitying  the  poor  cap- 
tive, ''  take  him  to  the  woods  and  let  him  go."  The  boys 
could  not  agree,  and  so  they  carried  the  case  to  their  father. 

4.  "  Well,  my  boys,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  I  will  be 
judge  and  you  shall  be  the  counsel,  and  plead  the  case  for 
and  against  the  life  and  liberty  of  the  dumb  prisoner." 

5.  Ezekiel  opened  the  case  with  a  strong  argument ;  urg- 
ing the  mischievous  nature  of  the  criminal,  and  the  great 
harm  he  had  already  done.  He  said  that  much  time  and 
labor  had  been  spent  in  his  capture,  and  if  he  should  be 
(Buffered  to  live  and  go  at  large  again,  he  would  renew  his 
depredations,  and  be  cunning  enough  not  to  be  re-captured. 

6.  He  remarked  that  his  skin  was  of  some  value,  but,  to 
make  the  most  of  him,  he  would  not  repay  half  the  damage 
he  had  already  done ;  and  he  ought  now  to  be  put  to  death. 
His  argument  was  ready,  practical,  and  to  the  point;  and 
the  father  looked  with  pride  upon  his  son;  who  in  his 
manhood  became  a  distinguished  jurist. 

4  U 


162  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

7.  Daniel  saw  that  his  brother's  plea  had  sensibly  affected 
his  father,  the  judge ;  and  as  his  large,  brilliant,  black  eyes 
looked  upon  the  soft,  timid  expression  of  the  animal,  trem- 
bling with  fear,  his  heart  swelled  with  pity,  and  he  appealed 
with  eloquent  words  for  the  life  and  liberty  of  the  captive. 

8.  "  God,"  said  he,  "  made  the  woodchuck.  He  made 
him  to  live ;  to  enjoy  the  bright  sunlight,  the  pure  air,  the 
free  fields  and  woods.     God  did  not  make  the  woodchuck, 

.or  anything,  in  vain,  and  he  has  as  much  right  to  life  as 
any  other  living  thing.  He  is  not  a  destructive  animal,  like 
the  wolf  and  fox,  but  simply  eafs  a  few  common  vegetables, 
of  which  we  have  plenty,  and  can  well  spare  a  part.  He 
destroys  nothing  except  the  little  food  he  needs  to  sustain 
life,  and  that  is  as  sweet  to  him,  and  as  necessary  to  his  ex- 
istence, as  is  to  us  the  food  upon  our  mother's  table. 

9.  "  God  furnishes  our  food.  He  gives  us  all  that  we  pos- 
sess ;  and  shall  we  not  spare  a  little  for  the  dumb  creature 
which  really  has  as  much  right  to  his  small  share  of  God's 
bounty  as  we  have  to  our  portion  ?  Yea,  more ;  the  wood- 
chuck has  never  violated  the  laws  of  his  nature,  nor  the 
laws  of  God,  as  man  often  does,  but  he  strictly  follows  the 
simple,  harmless  instincts  which  he  received  from  the  hand 
of  the  Creator  of  all  things. 

10.  "  Created  by  God's  hand,  he  has  a  right,  from  him,  to 
life,  to  food,  to  liberty ;  and  we  have  no  right  to  deprive 
him  of  either.  Witness  the  mute  but  earnest  pleadings  of 
the  poor  animal,  for  that  life  which  is  as  sweet  to  him  as 
ours  is  to  us ;  and  if,  in  selfish  cruelty  and  cold  heartless- 
ness,  we  deprive  him  of  that  life  which  God  gave,  and  Which 
we  cannot  restore,  we  must  expect  a  just  and  righteous 
judgment  for  our  wanton  act." 

11.  During  this  appeal,  the  tears  had  started  in  the  old 
man's  eyes,  and  were  fast  running  down  his  sunburnt 
cheeks.  Every  feeling  of  a  father's  heart  was  stirred  with- 
in him,  and  he  felt  that  God  had  blessed  him  in  his  chil- 
dren, beyond  the  common  lot  of  man.  His  pity  and  sym- 
pathy were  awakened  by  the  eloquent  words  of  compassion. 


all's  for  the  best.  163 

and  the  strong  appeal  for  mercy ;  and  while  Daniel  was  yet 
in  the  midst  of  his  argument,  forgetting  the  judge  in  the 
man  and  the  father,  he  sprang  from  his  chair,  dashing  the 
tears  from  his  eyes,  and  exclaimed,  "  Zeke !  Zeke !  let  that 
woodchuck  go ! " 


liXXNlll.— ALL'S  FOB  THE  BEST. 
I. 

ALL'S  for  the  best!  be  sanguine  and  cheerful, 
Trouble  and  sorrow  are  friends  in  disguise; 
Nothing  but  Folly  goes  faithless  and  fearful, 

Courage  for  ever  is  happy  and  wise : 
All  for  the  best, — if  a  man  would  but  know  it. 

Providence  wishes  us  all  to  be  blest; 
This  is  no  dream  of  the  pundit  or  poet. 
Heaven  is  gracious,  and — all 's  for  the  best ! 

II. 

All  for  the  best!  set  this  on  your  standard. 

Soldier  of  sadness,  or  pilgrim  of  love, 
Who  to  the  shores  of  Despair  may  have  wandered, 

A  way-wearied  swallow,  or  heart-stricken  dove. 
All  for  the  best!  be  a  man  but  confiding, 

Providence  tenderly  governs  the  rest, 
And  the  frail  bark  of  His  creature  is  guiding 

Wisely  and  warily  all  for  the  best. 

III. 

All  for  the  best!  then  fling  away  terrors. 

Meet  all  your  fears  and  your  foes  in  the  van; 
And  in  the  midst  of  your  dangers  or  errors 

Trust  like  a  child,  while  you  strive  like  a  man : 
All 's  for  the  best !  unbiassed,  unbounded. 

Providence  reigns  from  the  East  to  the  West; 
And,  by  both  wisdom  and  mercy  surrounded, 

Hope,  and  be  happy,  since  all 's  for  the  best ! 

M.  F.  TUPPER. 


164  THE   FOURTH    READER. 


LXXlX.—Tffi:  MUSCLES. 

THE  muscles  are  the  fleshy  part  of  the  body.  Besides 
giving  roundness  and  beauty  to  the  human  form, 
they  possess  the  power  of  shrinking  and  lengthening  like  a 
piece  of  India-rubber.  Attached  to  them  are  strong  white 
cords  called  sinews  or  tendons,  the  ends  of  which  are  fastened 
to  the  bones.  When  the  muscles  contract  they  pull  these 
tendons,  and  thus  give  motion  to  the  different  parts  of  the 
body. 

2.  For  example,  if  I  wish  to  bring  my  hand  to  my  head, 
the  muscles  on  my  arm  between  the  shoulder  and  the 
elbow  immediately  shrink  and  pull  up  the  forearm.  When 
I  wish  my  hand  to  go  back,  another  set  of  muscles  on  the 
back  part  of  the  arm  contract,  and  straighten  out  the  arm 
again.  The  muscles  are  usually  thus  found  in  pairs,  one 
set  to  bend  a  limb,  another  to  straighten  it. 

3.  The  whole  body  contains  about  four  hundred  and 
fifty  muscles,  or  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  pairs,  the 
uses  of  which  have  been  ascertained.  By  these  muscles  all 
the  motions  of  the  body  are  performed.  The  bones  could 
not  move  without  them,  and  any  part  unfurnished  with 
suitable  muscles  would  be  motionless.  The  bones  and  the 
muscles  are  thus  necessary  to  each  other ;  and  their  union 
displays  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  Him  who  is  the  maker 
and  framer  of  our  bodies. 

4.  There  are  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  muscles  con- 
cerned in  keeping  the  body  in  an  erect  posture,  and  about 
two  hundred  are  employed  in  the  act  of  walking. 

5.  In  order  to  travel  a  distance  of  thirty  miles,  each  lower 
limb  must  be  moved  about  forty  thousand  times,  or  both 
of  them  eighty  thousand  times.  The  arms  in  swinging  at 
the  sides  move  as  often,  so  that  the  motions  of  the  lower 
limbs  and  the  arms  thus  amount  together  to  one  hundred 
and  sixty  thousand.  This  number,  multiplied  by  the  two 
hundred  muscles  which  are  brought  into  action  at  every 


THE   MUSCLES.  165 

step,  gives  a  product  equal  to  thirty-two  millions  of  motions 
performed  in  walking  a  distance  of  thirty  miles. 

6.  How  marvelous  that  the  human  body  is  so  consti- 
tuted that  it  can  perform  all  these  thirty-two  millions  of 
muscular  actions,  or  motions,  without  injury !  No  iron  or 
steel  could  endure  such  a  vast  amount  of  work  as  the  joints 
of  the  human  body  thus  do. 

7.  It  is  said  that  not  less  than  a  hundred  muscles  are 
employed  every  time  we  breathe;  yet  we  draw  our  breath 
every  moment  without  even  being  sensible  of  the  vast  and 
complicated  apparatus  that  is  necessary  to  effect  this.  The 
least  impediment  to  our  breathing  throws  us  into  the 
greatest  distress;  but  how  little  do  we  value  this  blessing 
till  disease  or  accident  makes  us  sensible  of  its  enjoyment. 

8.  Besides  the  muscles  which  move  the  bones,  there  are 
muscles  which  give  motion  to  other  parts  of  the  body. 
For  example,  all  the  variety  of  expression  in  the  human 
face  is  produced  by  the  movement  of  a  few  muscles.  When 
we  smile  or  laugh,  these  expressions  are  produced  by  the 
movements  of  certain  muscles  in  the  face.  In  smiling,  the 
corners  of  the  mouth  are  slightly  drawn  up ;  in  laughing, 
still  more  so.  There  are  also  muscles  to  pull  down  the 
corners  of  the  mouth ;  and  it  is  by  these  that  the  expression 
of  sadness  is  given  to  the  face.  The  expression  of  pouting 
is  caused  by  the  movement  of  a  muscle  which  pushes  out 
the  under  lip;  and  anger  or  scowling,  by  muscles  which 
knit  the  brows.  In  many  people  these  muscles  are  in  very 
frequent  use.  

EXERCISE. 

1.  The  muscles  possess  the  power  of  contracting  and  extending. 

2.  They  are  generally  found  in  couples. 

3.  By  these  muscles  all  the  motions  of  the  body  are  executed. 

4.  There  are  one  hundred  and  fifty  muscles  employed  in  holding  the 

body  in  an  upright  position. 

5.  How  wonderful  that  the  human  body  is  so  made  ! 

6.  We  are  not  sensible  of  the  complex  machinery  that  is  needful. 

7.  The  least  hinderance  to  our  breathing  throws  us  into  the  greatest 

Bufiferinig. 


166 


THE   FOURTH   READER. 


V 


LXXX.—TRU  CAFTAIJV'S  DAUGHTER. 


WE  were  crowded  in  the  cabin; 
Not  a  soul  would  dare  to  sleep; 
It  was  midnight  on  the  waters, 
And  a  storm  was  on  the  deep. 


n. 


'Tis  a  fearful  thing  in  winter 
To  be  shattered  by  the  blast, 

And  to  hear  the  rattling  trumpet 
Thunder,  "Cut  away  the  mast  I* 


THE  lawyer's  advice.  167 

III. 
So  we  shuddered  there  in  silence: 

For  the  stoutest  held  his  breath, 
While  the  hungry  sea  was  roaring, 

And  the  breakers  talked  with  Death. 

IV. 

And  as  thus  we  sat  in  darkness, 

Each  one  busy  in  his  prayers, 
"  We  are  lost ! "  the  captain  shouted, 

As  he  staggered  down  the  stairs. 

V. 

But  his  little  daughter  whispered. 

As  she  took  his  icy  hand, 
"  Isn  't  God  upon  the  ocean. 

Just  the  same  as  on  the  land?" 

VI. 
Then  we  kissed  the  little  maiden. 
And  we  spoke  in  better  cheer; 
And  we  anchored  safe  in  harbor. 
When  the  morn  was  shining  clear. 

J.  T.  Fields. 


LXXXI.— THE  LAWYER'S  ADVICE. 

THE  ancient  town  of  Rennes,  in  France,  is  a  famous 
place  for  law.  To  visit  Rennes  without  getting  ad- 
vice, of  some  sort,  seems  absurd  to  the  country  people  round 
about.  It  happened  one  day  that  a  farmer,  named  Bernard, 
having  come  to  this  town  on  business,  bethought  himself 
that,  as  he  had  a  few  hours  to  spare,  it  would  be  well  to  get 
the  advice  of  a  good  lawyer. 

2.  He  had  often  heard  of  Lawyer  Foy,  who  was  in  such 
high  repute  that  people  believed  a  lawsuit  gained  when  he 
undertook  their  cause.  The  countryman  went  to  his  office, 
and,  after  waiting  some  time,  was  admitted  to  an  interview. 


168  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

He  told  the  lawyer  that  having  heard  much  about  him,  and 
happening  to  be  in  town,  he  thought  he  would  call  and 
consult  him. 

3.  "  You  wish  to  bring  action,  perhaps  ?"  said  the  lawyer. 

4.  "  Oh  no ! "  replied  the  farmer ;  "  I  am  at  peace  with  all 
the  world." 

5.  "  Then  it  is  a  settlement,  a  division  of  property,  that 
you  want  ?  " 

6.  "  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Lawyer ;  my  family  and  I  have 
never  made  a  division,  seeing  that  we  draw  from  the  same 
well,  as  the  saying  is." 

7.  "  Is  it  then  to  get  me  to  negotiate  a  purchase  or  sale 
that  you  have  come  ?  " 

8.  "  Oh  no  !  I  am  neither  rich  enough  to  purchase,  nor 
poor  enough  to  sell." 

9.  "  Will  you  tell  me,  then,  what  you  do  want  of  me  ? " 
said  the  lawyer  in  surprise. 

10.  "  Why,  I  have  already  told  you,  Mr.  Lawyer,"  replied 
Bernard.  "  I  want  your  advice.  I  mean  to  pay  for  it,  of 
course." 

11.  The  lawyer  smiled,  and,  taking  pen  and  paper,  asked 
the  countryman  his  name. 

12.  "  Peter  Bernard,"  replied  the  latter,  quite  happy  that 
he  was  at  length  understood. 

13.  "Your  age?" 

14.  "  Thirty  years,  or  very  near  it." 

15.  "  Your  vocation?  " 

16.  "What's  that?" 

17.  "  What  do  you  do  for  a  living  ?  " 

18.  "  Oil !  that 's  what  vocation  means,  is  it  ?  I  am  a 
farmer." 

19.  The  lawyer  wrote  two  lines,  folded  the  paper,  and 
handed  it  to  his  strange  client. 

20.  "Is  it  finished  already?"  said  the  farmer.  "Well 
and  good !    What  is  the  price  of  that  advice,  Mr.  Lawyer  ?  " 

21.  "Three  francs." 

22.  Bernard  paid  the  money  and  took  his  leave,  delighted 


169 

that  he  had  made  use  of  his  opportunity  to  get  a  bit  of 
advice  from  the  great  lawyer. 

23.  When  the  farmer  reached  home  it  was  four  o'clock ; 
the  journey  had  fatigued  him,  and  he  determined  to  rest 
the  remainder  of  the  day.  Meanwhile  the  hay  had  been 
two  days  cut,  and  was  completely  made.  One  of  the  work- 
ingmen  came  to  ask  if  it  should  be  drawn  in. 

24.  "  What,  this  evening  ?  "  exclaimed  the  farmer's  wife, 
who  had  come  to  meet  her  husband.  "  It  would  be  a  pity 
to  begin  the  work  so  late,  since  it  can  be  done  as  well  to- 
morrow." 

25.  Bernard  was  uncertain  which  way  to  decide.  Sud- 
denly he  recollected  that  he  had  the  lawyer's  advice  in  his 
pocket. 

26.  "  Wait  a  minute,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  I  have  an  advice 
— and  a  famous  one,  too — that  I  paid  three  francs  for ;  it 
ought  to  tell  us  what  to  do.  Here,  wife,  see  what  it  says ; 
you  can  read  written  hand  better  than  I." 

27.  The  woman  took  the  paper,  and  read  this  line: 
"  Never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  you  can  do  to-day." 

28.  "  That 's  it ! "  exclaimed  Bernard,  as  if  a  ray  of  light 
had  cleared  up  all  his  doubts.  "  Come,  boys !  come,  girls ! 
all  to  the  hay-field !  It  shall  not  be  said  that  I  have  bought 
a  three-franc  opinion  to  make  no  use  of  it.  I  will  follow  the 
lawyer's  advice." 

29.  Bernard  himself  set  the  example  by  taking  the  lead 
in  the  work,  and  not  returning  till  all  the  hay  was  brought 
in.  The  event  seemed  to  prove  the  wisdom  of  his  conduct 
and  the  foresight  of  the  lawyer. 

30.  The  weather  changed  during  the  night;  an  unex- 
pected storm  burst  over  the  valley  ;  and  the  next  morning 
it  was  found  that  the  river  had  overflowed,  and  carried 
away  all  the  hay  that  had  been  left  in  the  fields.  The  crops 
of  the  neighboring  farms  were  completely  destroyed.  Ber- 
nard alone  had  not  suffered. 

31.  The  success  of  this  first  experiment  gave  him  such 
faith   in  the  advice  of  the  lawyer,  that,  from   that  day 


170  THE  FOURTH  READER. 

forth,  he  adopted  it  as  the  rule  of  his  conduct,  and  became 
consequently  one  of  the  most  prosperous  farmers  in  the 
country. 


LXXXII.— TTi^/r/JVC^  OM  SAJfD. 


ALONE  I  walked  the  ocean  strand; 
A  pearly  shell  was  in  my  hand. 
I  stooped  and  wrote  upon  the  sand 

My  name,  the  year,  the  day. 
As  onward  from  the  spot  I  passed, 
One  lingering  look  behind  I  cast — 
A  wave  came  rolhng  high  and  fast, 
And  washed  my  hnes  away. 


II. 
And  so,  meth ought,  'twill  shortly  be 
With  every  trace  on  earth  of  me : 
A  wave  from  dark  oblivion's  sea 

Will  roll  across  the  place 
Where  I  have  trod  the  sandy  shore 
Of  time,  and  been,  to  be  no  more-* 
Of  me,  my  day,  the  name  I  bore, 

To  leave  nor  track  nor  trace. 


in. 

And  yet  with  Him  who  counts  the  sands 
And  holds  the  waters  in  His  hands, 
I  know  a  lasting  record  stands 

Inscribed  against  my  name, 
Of  all  this  mortal  part  hath  wrought, 
Of  all  this  thinking  soul  hath  thought. 
And  from  these  fleeting  moments  caught 

For  glory  or  for  shame. 


THE  GUNPOWDER  HARVEST.  171 


LXXXIIL— T^^  GUJfPOWDEB-RARYEST. 

A  TRADER  came  among  a  nation  of  Indians  with  a 
large  quantity  of  gunpowder  for  sale.  "  We  do  not 
wish  to  buy,"  said  the  Indians;  "we  have  plenty  of 
powder." 

2.  The  trader  then  thought  of  a  trick  for  getting  rid  of 
the  powder.  Going  into  a  field,  he  made  some  long  fur- 
rows; then  mixing  his  gunpowder  with  onion-seed,  he 
began  to  sow  the  mixture  in  the  furrows. 

3.  The  Indians  gathered  around  him,  and  asked  him 
what  he  was  putting  in  the  ground. 

"  Do  you  not  see  it  is  gunpowder  ?  "  said  he. 

4.  "Why  do  you  put  it  in  the  ground?"  inquired  the 
Indians. 

"  Well,  why  do  you  put  corn  in  the  ground  ?  "  said  he. 

5.  "To  raise  more,"  was  the  answer. 

"  I  am  planting  gunpowder  to  raise  more,  just  as  you 
plant  corn.  You  will  not  buy  my  powder;  and  I  am 
going  to  produce  a  large  crop,  which  I  will  take  to  another 
nation.  Did  you  never  before  know  how  gunpowder  is 
raised  ?  " 

6.  "No,"  replied  they;  "the  man  who  has  always  sold 
us  powder  never  told  us  that.  He  is  a  cheat;  we  will 
never  trade  with  him  again.  You  are  an  honest  man,  and 
we  will  trade  with  you.  We  will  buy  your  powder;  we 
will  plant  it;  and  hereafter  the  ground  will  supply  our 
wants." 

7.  Some  of  the  more  cautious  among  the  Indians,  how- 
ever, thought  it  would  be  better  not  to  do  anything  till  the 
plants  should  spring  up.  In  a  few  days  the  shoots  from 
the  onion-seed  began  to  appear. 

8.  "  Now,"  said  the  trader,  "  you  can  see  for  yourselves. 
You  see  that  I  am  an  honest  man,  and  that  I  told  you 
nothing  but  the  truth."  The  most  cautious  of  the  Indians 
were  convinced.     Every  one  being  anxious  to  raise  a  crop 


172  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

of  gunpowder,  they  bought  the  stock  at  a  very  high  price, 
and  planted  it. 

9.  The  corn  was  now  neglected  for  the  gunpowder.  They 
hoed  it  with  the  greatest  care,  and  watched  every  day  for 
the  appearance  of  the  gunpowder-blossoms.  They  planned 
a  great  hunting  expedition,  which  w^as  to  take  place  after 
the  powder-harvest. 

10.  An  exuberant  crop  of  onion-seed  rewarded  their 
labors.  But  thrashing  and  winnowing  failed  to  bring  out 
the  gunpowder.  They  discovered  that  they  had  been 
cheated.  The  dishonest  trader,  of  course,  avoided  making 
a  second  visit  to  this  nation.  Some  time  afterwards,  how- 
ever, he  sent  a  partner  of  his  to  trade  with  them. 

11.  By  chance  the  Indians  found  out  that  he  was  a  part- 
ner of  the  man  who  had  cheated  them.  They  said  nothing 
to  him  about  the  discovery,  but  when  he  had  laid  out  all 
his  goods  before  them  for  the  purpose  of  barter,  they  de- 
liberately helped  themselves  to  all  he  had,  and  walked  off 
to  the  woods. 

12.  The  trader  was  furiously  angry,  and  went  to  make 
his  complaint  to  the  chief  of  the  nation.  "  I  am  an  honest 
man,"  said  he ;  "I  came  here  to  trade  honestly.  But  your 
people  are  thieves ;  they  have  stolen  all  my  goods." 

13.  The  chief  looked  at  him  for  some  time  in  silence, 
and  then  said,  "My  children  are  all  honest.  They  have 
not  stolen  your  goods.  They  will  pay  you  as  soon  as  they 
gather  their  gunpowder-harvest." 


EXERCISE. 

1.  We  do  not  wish  to  purchase;  we  have  enough  powder. 

2.  He  is  a  swindler  ;  we  will  never  deal  with  him  again. 

3.  The  most  wary  of  the  Indians  were  satisfied. 

4.  The  corn  was  now  disregarded  for  the  gunpowder. 

5.  They  proposed  a  great  hunting  enterprise. 

6.  A  plentiful  crop  of  onion-seed  rewarded  their  efforts. 

7.  They  found  out  that  they  had  been  deceived. 

8.  They  calmly  helped  themselves  to  all  he  had. 


THE   LITTLE   HEART's-EASE.  173 


LXXiy.—THU  LITTLE  HEARTS-EASE, 

I. 

AGAEDENER  went,  one  sunshiny  day, 
To  look  at  his  gay  parterre;* 
To  admire  his  flowers  in  their  handsome  array, 

As  with  fragrance  they  scented  the  air ; 
And  to  walk  in  the  shade  of  his  stately  trees, 
That  were  waving  their  boughs  in  the  morning  breeze. 

II. 
But,  alas !  alas !  when  he  reached  his  ground, 

What  a  scene  of  disorder  and  sadness  he  found  i 
Each  beautiful  flower  was  drooping  its  head 

And  rapidly  fading  away; 
And  unnumbered  fair  leaves  on  the  pathway  were  shed, 

From  the  trees  in  their  early  decay: 
And  our  gardener  hastily  sought  for  th^  reason 
Why  this  should  have  happened  in  spring's  lovely  season. 

III. 
80  he  walked  up  first  to  his  favorite  Oak, 

All  withering,  and  asked  it,  "Why?" 
And  the  noble  old  tree  thus  mournfully  spoke: 

"I  thought  I  as  well  might  die; 
For  I  bear  no  fruit,  nor  with  flowerets  bloom. 
And  my  awkward  branches  want  so  much  room, — 

I'm  a  clumsy  and  useless  thing: 
If  I  were  a  rose-tree,  like  that  within  reach. 
Or  if  I  had  fruit  like  the  soft,  round  peach, 

Some  profit  I  then  might  bring; 
But,  as  I  have  nothing  but  leaves  to  give, 
What  motive  have  I  for  wishing  to  live?" 

IV. 

"  Well,  Lady  Rose,  with  your  sweet,  open  face, 

And  cheeks  of  a  delicate  hue, 
I  had  hoped  that  for  months  you  my  garden  would  grace, 

Tell  me,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?" 

*  Parterre  (par-tair'),  garden. 


174  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

And  the  pretty  Rose  said,  as  she  shook  on  her  stem, 
"Just  look  at  your  oak-trees;  if  I  were  like  them 

How  happy  and  proud  I  should  be! 
I  should  rear  my  tall  head  in  your  well-cultured  ground, 
An  ornament  there,  which  for  many  miles  round 

Admiring  people  might  see; 
But  a  poor  little  flower,  unproductive  as  I, 
What  use  is  it  to  you? — I'd  much  rather  die." 

V. 

"  O  beautiful  Vine,  which  I  trained  with  such  care 

To  climb  up  the  sheltering  wall! 
Say,  why  are  you  trailing  so  dolefully  there? 

And  what  has  occasioned  your  fall?" 
And  the  Vine  faintly  murmured:  "As  I  had  not  strength 
My  own  weight  to  sustain,  I  determined  at  length 

Not  to  trouble  my  friends  any  longer: 
Could  I  yield  a  shade  like  the  wide-spreading  trees 
Or  if,  like  the  flowers,  I  had  gifts  that  would  please, 

Why,  then,  I  might  try  to  grow  stronger ; 
But  a  poor  feeble  creature,  requiring  a  stay. 
Had  better  make  haste  to  get  out  of  the  way." 

VI. 
Quite  saddened  with  looks  and  with  words  of  gloom. 

The  gardener  with  joy  espied 
A  dear  little  Heart's-ease,  in  full,  rich  bloom, 

As  fresh  as  a  fair  young  bride: 
It  turned  up  its  bright  little  face  toward  him. 
With  a  smile  which  none  of  its  neighbors  would  dim. 

And  he  said,  with  surprise,  "  How  is  it 
That  you  so  contented  and  healthful  appear? 
And  that  yours  is  the  only  countenance  here 

That  welcomes  me  in  my  visit?" 

vn. 

And  the  Heart's-ease  replied,  in  a  quick,  cheerful  tone, 
"  Dear  master,  I  felt  that  I  was  not  my  own. 

And  it  seemed  to  my  simple  perception  clear. 
That  you  certainly  wanted  me: 


THE   WOODPECKER.  175 

For  you  would  have  planted  an  acorn  here, 

Had  you  wished  for  a  stately  tree; 
Or  had  you  desired  sweet  grapes  to  find, 
A  vine-plant  would  in  my  place  have  twined; 

And  therefore  my  obvious  duty 
Was  to  strive  and  grow  with  untiring  zest, 
Since  the  hearty  endeavor. to  do  one's  best 

Is  the  truest  worth  and  beauty; 
And  I  saw  that  the  work  which  you  gave  me  to  do 
Was  to  grow  up  a  fine  little  Heart's-ease  for  you." 

VIII. 

Dear  reader!  let  this  simple  Heart's-ease  teach 

The  moral  I  wish  to  impart: 
Sigh  not  for  stations  placed  beyond  reach, 

But  strive  to  serve  thy  Maker  where  thou  art: 
The  gardener  soweth  only  tiny  seeds 

Where  he  desires  to  raise  but  simple  flowers; 
If  God  required  from  thee  an  angel's  deeds, 

He  would  have  given  thee  an  angel's  powers; 
But  all  he  asks  from  each  of  us  while  here, 

Is  that  with  calm  contentment  we  should  rest 
In  our  appointed  and  appropriate  sphere. 

And  there,  with  loving  spirit,  do  our  best. 


LXXXY.—TRi:  WOODPECKER. 

HARK  ! "     And  Aggy  turned  her  little  head  to  listen. 
"  It 's  a  woodpecker,"  said  Harry.     We  all  ran  out 
into  the  porch. 

2.  "Two  of  them,"  cried  Aggy.  "Oh,  what  beauties! 
and  such  splendid  topknots  ! " 

3.  Two  large  crested  Woodpeckers  had  alighted  on  an  old 
half-decayed  poplar  that  stood  near  the  house,  and  were 
hammering  away  on  the  dead  wood,  making  the  chips  and 
bark  fly  in  all  directions.  Suddenly  their  work  stopped, 
and  the  birds,  one  on  the  upper  and  the  other  on  the  lower 


176  THE   FOURTH    READER. 

side  of  a  great  limb,  stood  looking  at  each  other  as  it  seemed 
in  a  fierce,  angry  way. 

4.  "  Not  going  to  quarrel,  I  hope,"  said  Aggy. 

5.  At  this  moment  I  saw  the  cause  of  what  seemed  their 
singular  conduct.  A  great  spider,  busy  in  making  his  web, 
had  let  himself  down  from  a  branch,  and  was  hanging  on 
his  slender  thread  just  between  the  birds,  a  tempting  mor- 
sel. Scarcely  had  my  eyes  made  him  out  when  the  wood- 
pecker on  the  lower  side  of  the  iimb  darted  upward  his 
slender  bill  and  the  spider  was  no  more. 

6.  Then  at  it  went  both  the  birds  again,  hammering  and 
cutting  the  dead  limb,  and  feasting  on  the  worms  that  were 
hidden  therein.  For  about  ten  minutes  they  worked  away 
vigorously,  and  then  some  noise  we  made  scared  them,  and 
they  flew  off  to  the  woods  near  by. 

7.  "  Tell  us  about  woodpeckers,"  said  Harry  as  we  went 
back  into  the  house. 

8.  I  took  down  a  book  as  the  children  gathered  around 
me  and  read :  "  The  Crested  Woodpecker  is  called  by  Wil- 
son the  great  northern  chief  of  his  tribe.  He  excels  in  car- 
pentry, and  almost  every  old  trunk  in  the  forest,  from  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico  to  the  Canadian  Dominion,  bears  marks  of 
his  chisel ;  for  whenever  he  perceives  a  tree  beginning  to 
decay,  he  examines  it  closely,  and  then,  to  get  at  the  hid- 
den cause  of  the  disease,  sets  himself  to  work  to  strip  it  of 
its  bark.  'I  have  seen  him,'  says  Wilson,  'separate  the 
greater  part  of  the  bark  from  a  large  dead  pine  tree,  from 
twenty  to  thirty  feet  long,  in  less  than  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.' 

9.  "  Like  the  rest  of  his  family,  the  Crested  Woodpecker 
is  extremely  industrious,  seemingly  never  a  moment  idle, 
flying  from  tree  to  tree,  and  plying  his  head  like  a  hammer 
the  instant  he  alights.  In  whatever  engaged,  he  appears 
always  to  be  in  a  hurry. 

10.  "  He  is  extremely  tenacious  of  life.  Even  when  fatally 
wounded,  he  struggles  with  unconquerable'  resolution  to 
maintain  his  grasp  on  the  trunk,  to  which  he  trusts  for 


THE   WOODPECKER.  177 

safety  to  the  very  instant  of  death.  When  winged  by  a 
gunshot  wound,  he  makes  for  the  nearest  tree,  to  which  he 
clings  with  the  utmost  tenacity,  striking  fiercely  at  the 
hand  outstretched  to  seize  him,  and,  resolute  for  his  native 
freedom,  rarely  submits  to  live  in  confinement. 

11.  "  Powerful  as  are  the  strokes  of  the  Crested  Wood- 
pecker, they  are  weak  as  compared  with  those  delivered  by 
another  member  of  the  family,  the  Ivory -billed  Woodpecker 
— the  '  prince '  as  he  may  be  called,  by  a  free  rendering  of 
the  specific  name  conferred  on  him  by  science.  The 
strength  of  his  blow  verges  on  the  marvelous.  His  bill  is 
as  white,  as  tough,  and  as  hard  as  ivory,  and  is  elegantly 
fluted.  With  it  he  can  dig  into  the  hardest  trees,  either  for 
wood  or  in  the  excavation  of  his  nest. 

12.  "  Wilson  tells  us  of  one  he  wounded  and  caught,  which, 
in  its  endeavors  to  escape  from  the  room  in  which  he  had 
enclosed  it,  '  mounted  along  the  side  of  the  window  nearly 
as  high  as  the  ceiling,  and  began  to  break  through.'  When 
discovered,  he  set  up  a  most  piteous  cry  of  grief.  '  The  bed 
was  covered  with  large  pieces  of  plaster,  the  lath  was  ex- 
posed for  at  least  fifteen  inches  square,  and  a  hole  large 
enough  to  admit  the  fist  opened  to  the  weatherboards. 

13.  "  '  I  now  tied  a  string  round  his  leg,'  continues  Wilson, 
*  and  fastening  it  to  the  table,  again  left  him.  I  wished  to 
preserve  his  life,  and  had  gone  off*  in  search  of  suitable  food 
for  him.  As  I  reascended  the  stairs,  I  heard  him  again  hard 
at  work,  and  on  entering  had  the  mortification  to  perceive 
that  he  had  almost  entirely  ruined  the  mahogany  table  to 
which  he  was  fastened. 

14.  " '  On  the  whole,  he  displayed  such  a  noble  and  un- 
conquerable spirit  that  I  was  frequently  tempted  to  restore 
him  to  his  native  woods.  He  lived  with  me  nearly  three 
days,  but  refused  all  sustenance,  and  I  witnessed  his  death 
with  regret.' 

15.  "  According  to  the  same  authority,  the  head  and  bill 
of  this  bird  were  held  in  great  esteem  by  the  Indian  tribes 
formerly  living  in  our  Southern  States.     They  were  worn 


178  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

by  way  of  amulet  or  charm,  the  Indians  believing  that  a 
portion  of  the  indomitable  courage  of  the  bird  was  thereby 
infused  into  their  own  spirits. 

16.  "  The  tongue  of  the  woodpecker  is  justly  considered 
a  curiosity.  It  is  commonly  supposed  to  be  very  long,  but 
in  one  sense  this  is  an  error.  Indeed,  that  portion  of 
it  which  corresponds  to  the  tongue  in  other  birds  is  re- 
markably short,  its  apparent  extreme  length  being  due  to 
certain  mechanical  contrivances  at  its  base,  which  may  be 
compared  to  steel  springs,  moving  the  whole  organ,  and 
allowing  it  to  be  thrust  out  to  an  extraordinary  distance. 

17.  "  The  tongue  proper  is  a  horn-like  substance,  set  with 
numerous  fine  barbs  on  each  side  of  the  tip.  Having  with 
its  bill  laid  bare  the  retreats  of  the  insects  on  which  it  preys, 
the  bird  darts  out  his  tongue  at  them  with  the  rapidity  and 
fatal  certainty  of  lightning,  transfixing  them  on  its  barbed 
point,  and  thus  draws  them  into  his  mouth.  With  many 
of  the  smaller  insects,  such  as  ants  and  the  like,  these  barbs 
are  not  called  into  play,  the  capture  being  efiected  by  a 
viscid  secretion  on  the  tongue,  to  which  the  insects  ad- 
here." 

18.  "  The  birds  we  saw,  then,  were  Crested  Woodpeck- 
ers ?  "  said  Harry  as  I  closed  the  book. 

19.  "  Yes,  and  a  splendid  pair  they  were." 

20.  '^  Well,  I'  m  glad  they  came  to  our  old  tree,"  returned 
Harry,  "  for  now  I  know  more  about  woodpeckers  than  I 
ever  did  before."  ^^^  WiLuar. 

EXEROISE. 

1.  When  he  sees  a  tree  beginning  to  rot  he  inspects  it  carefully. 

2.  The  woodpecker  is  very  active,  apparently  never  idle. 

3.  When  mortally  wounded  he  strives  with  invincible  determinaiion  to 

keep  his  hold. 

4.  He  seldom  submits  to  live  in  imprisonment. 

5.  The  strength  of  his  blow  is  almost  wond^erful. 

6.  I  had  the  unhappiness  to  see  that  he  had  almost  wholly  spoiled  the 

table. 

7.  He  r^ected  all  food,  and  I  saw  his  death  with  sorrow. 


BIKDS   IN   SUMMER. 


179 


LXXXVl.— BIRDS  IJ^  SUMMER 


HOW  pleasant  the  life  of  a  bird  must  be, 
Flitting  about  in  each  leafy  tree; 
In  the  leafy  trees,  so  broad  and  tall, 
Like  a  green  and  beautiful  palace  hall. 
With  its  airy  chambers,  light  and  boon,* 
That  open  to  sun,  and  stars,  and  moon; 
That  open  unto  the  bright  blue  sky, 
And  the  frolicsome  winds  as  they  wander  by! 


n. 

They  have  left  their  nests  on  the  forest  bough; 
Those  homes  of  delight  they  need  not  now; 
And  the  young  and  the  old  they  wander  out, 
And  traverse  their  green  world  round  about; 
And  hark !  at  the  top  of  this  leafy  hall. 
How  one  to  the  other  in  love  they  call! 
"Come  up!  come  up!"  they  seem  to  say, 
"Where  the  topmost  twigs  in  the  breezes  sway. 

*  Boon,  pleasant. 


180  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

in. 

"Come  up!  come  up!  for  the  world  is  fair 

Where  the  merry  leaves  dance  in  the  summer  air/" 

And  the  birds  below  give  back  the  cry, 

"  We  come,  we  come  to  the  branches  high." 

How  pleasant  the  lives  of  the  birds  must  be, 

Living  in  love  in  a  leafy  tree! 

And  away  through  the  air  what  joy  to  go, 

And  to  look  on  the  green,  bright  earth  below ! 


IV. 

How  pleasant  the  life  of  a  bird  must  be. 

Skimming  about  on  the  breezy  sea. 

Cresting  the  billows  like  silvery  foam, 

Then  wheeling  away  to  its  cliff-built  home! 

What  joy  it  must  be  to  sail,  upborne 

By  a  strong,  free  wing,  through  the  rosy  morn ! 

To  meet  the  young  sun  face  to  face. 

And  pierce  like  a  shaft  the  boundless  space; — 


V. 

To  pass  through  the  bowers  of  the  silver  cloud, 
To  sing  in  the  thunder  halls  aloud; 
To  spread  out  the  wings  for  a  wild,  free  flight 
With  the  upper-cloud  winds — oh,  what  delight ! 
Oh,  what  would  I  give,  like  a  bird,  to  go 
Right  on  through  the  arch  of  the  sun-lit  bow, 
And  see  how  the  water-drops  are  kissed 
Into  green,  and  yellow,  and  amethyst! 


VI. 
How  pleasant  the  life  of  a  bird  must  be, 
Wherever  it  listeth  there  to  flee; 
To  go,  when  a  joyful  fancy  calls. 
Dashing  adown  'mong  the  waterfalls; 
Then  to  wheel  about  with  their  mates  at  play, 
Above,  and  below,  and  among  the  spray. 
Hither  and  thither,  with  screams  as  wild 
As  the  laughing  mirth  of  a  rosy  child  J 


GEYSER  SPRINGS.  181 

VII. 
What  joy  it  must  be,  like  a  living  breeze, 
To  flutter  about  'mid  the  flowering  trees; 
Lightly  to  soar,  and  to  see  beneath 
The  wastes  of  the  blossoming  purple  heath, 
And  the  yellow  furze,  like  fields  of  gold, 
That  gladdened  some  fairy  region  old! 
On  the  mountain  tops,  on  the  billowy  sea, 
On  the  leafy  stems  of  the  forest  tree, 
How  pleasant  the  life  of  a  bird  must  be! 

Mary  Howitt. 


LXXXVII.— G^^r^S'^i^  SPEIJVGS. 

MR.  HORTON.  Geysers  *  are  indeed  very  wonderful 
things!" 

Willy.  What  are  they,  father?  won't  you  please  to  tell 
me?" 

Mr.  H.  They  are  fountains  that  throw  large  quantities 
of  hot  water  and  steam  to  a  great  height  in  the  air. 

Willy.    In  what  part  of  the  world  are  they  found  ? 

Mr.  H.  In  Iceland.  One  of  them,  which  is  called  the 
Great  Geyser,  has  the  appearance  of  a  large  mound.  You 
go  up  its  sides,  and  you  find  a  large  basin  at  the  top,  not 
quite  round,  being  fifty-six  feet  across  in  one  way  and  forty- 
six  the  other,  and  about  four  feet  deep.  In  the  center  is  a 
hole  or  pipe  going  down  into  the  earth  seventy-eight  feeto 
This  pipe  is  eight  or  ten  feet  in  diameter,  widening  as  it 
opens  into  the  basin.  The  hot  water  rises  through  the  pipe 
and  fills  the  basin,  and  then  runs  off  over  the  sides.  Every 
few  hours  there  are  heard  loud  reports,  like  that  of  distant 
artillery,  in  the  earth  beneath  the  basin,  and  then  water  is 
thrown  from  the  pipe  with  violence  and  to  a  great  height. 

Willy.     How  high  is  it  thrown  ? 

Mr.  H.  Sometimes  the  column  of  water  is  thrown  twenty 
or  thirty  feet  high,  sometimes  fifty  feet,  and  sometimes  as 
*  Pronounced  Gy-serz  {g  as  in  get). 


182  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

high  as  seventy  or  eighty  feet.  Think  of  a  column  of  watei 
eight  or  ten  feet  in  diameter  thrown  up  seventy  feet  with  a 
tremendous  roar,  and  a  cloud  of  steam  along  with  it ! 

Willy.  I  should  think  it  would  .be  one  of  the  most  won- 
derful sights  in  the  world. 

Mr.  H.     It  is  so. 

Willy.     Does  it  rise  swiftly  ? 

Mr.  H.  Very  swiftly.  Sometimes  large  stones  are  thrown 
up.  Sometimes  visitors  cast  stones  into  the  pipes,  and  they 
are  thrown  out  and  up  into  the  air  along  with  the  water. 
Sometimes  they  are  kept  up  in  the  air  four  or  five  minutes 
by  the  action  of  the  water.  There  are  a  great  many  smaller 
geysers  in  the  vicinity  of  this  larger  one.  A  Mr.  Hender- 
son, who  visited  them  in  1814,  thinks  he  discovered  the 
key  of  one  of  the  largest  of  them. 

Willy.     The  key !  what  did  he  mean  ? 

Mr.  H.  The  way  of  exciting  it  to  action.  They  throw 
out  the  steam  and  water,  as  I  said,  at  intervals.  After  there 
have  been  loud  reports,  and  a  shaking  of  the  earth,  and  an 
ejection  of  water  and  steam,  they  will  be  quiet  for  some 
time,  so  that  the  spectator  has  to  wait  several  hours  per- 
haps before  he  may  see  them  in  operation  again.  But  Mr. 
Henderson  found  that  by  throwing  a  quantity  of  large 
stones  into  the  opening  he  could  cause  it  to  make  an  erup- 
tion whenever  he  pleased.  At  one  time,  when  it  had  been 
excited  to  action  in  this  way,  it  threw  up  jets  of  water  and 
steam  more  than  two  hundred  feet  high. 

Willy.  It  seems  as  if  Mr.  Henderson  made  it  angry  by 
throwing  in  stones. 

Mr.  H.  When  the  sun  was  shining  on  these  jets  they 
had  a  most  brilliant  appearance.  The  water  was  as  white 
as  snow,  and  rainbows  were  seen  all  about  it.  Besides  the 
water-pipes,  there  are  a  great  many  steam-pipes  in  the 
vicinity — that  is,  holes  in  the  earth  out  of  which  columns 
of  steam  issue.  The  clouds  of  steam  sometimes  thrown 
out  cover  the  whole  heavens  from  the  view. 

Willy.    Is  the  water  hot? 


GEYSER   SPRINGS.  183 

Mr.  H.  Yes,  it  is  very  hot,  and  people  often  get  badly 
scalded  by  its  falling  upon  them.  At  one  time  Mr.  Hen- 
derson was  looking  into  the  pipe  of  one  of  the  largest,  when 
the  column  of  scalding  water  came  up  as  swift  as  an  arrow 
within  a  few  inches  of  his  face. 

Willy.  I  guess  he  ran.  But  what  is  the  cause  of  the 
water  spurting  up  so  ? 

Mr.  H.  I  can  tell  you  the  general  cause  by  which  it  is 
thrown  up,  though  I  cannot  explain  the  particular  manner 
in  which  it  is  done.  The  volcanic  fires  underneath  are  the 
cause.     These  fires  are  near  the  surface  at  this  place. 

Willy.     Is  n't  it  dangerous  to  be  there  ? 

Mr.  H.  It  is.  The  crust  of  earth  over  the  fire  is  very 
thin,  and  may  fall  in  at  any  moment. 

Willy.    What  makes  the  fires  there  ? 

Mr.  H.  I  can't  answer  that  question.  Probably  all  the 
interior  of  the  earth  is  one  mass  of  fire. 

Willy.  One  mass  of  fire !  Do  you  suppose  there  is  fire 
under  our  feet? 

Mr.  H.  I  presume  there  is ;  the  crust  between  us  and 
the  fire  is  much  thicker  than  in  volcanic  countries. 

Willy.  But  still  it  may  burn  through.  I  did  not  think 
that  we  were  in  so  much  danger. 

Mr.  H.  We  are  always  in  danger — are  never  safe  but 
when  in  the  Almighty's  hand.  There  alone  is  safety.  If 
we  put  our  trust  in  Him,  we  are  safe  anywhere;  if  we  do 
not,  we  are  safe  nowhere. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  Geysers  are  marvelous  things. 

2.  They  project  an  immense  amount  of  hot  water  and  steam   into 

the  air. 

3.  Every  few  hours  there  are  heard  loud  noises  like  far-off  cannon. 

4.  There  are  smaller  geysers  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  larger  ones. 

5.  It  threw  up  streams  of  water  and  vapor. 

6.  It  is  likely  that  the  inside  of  the  earth  is  one  mass  of  fire. 


184  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

LXXXVIII.— r^^  EMIGBAJ^TS. 

ALL. 

Land!  land!  land! 

FIRST  VOICE. 

The  dangers  of  the  deep  are  past, 
We  're  drawing  near  our  home  at  last, 
We  see  its  outline  on  the  sky, 
And  join  the  sailors'  welcome  cry : 

ALL. 

Land!  land!  land! 

SECOND  VOICE. 

Oh!  joyful  thought  for  weary  men, 

To  tread  the  solid  earth  again! 

And  hark!  the  church-bells  pealing  clear 

From  spire  and  turret  looming  near, 

As  if  they  rang  so  loud  and  free 

To  bid  us  welcome  o'er  the  sea. 

ALL. 

Land!  land!  land! 

THIRD  VOICE. 

The  cry  makes  every  heart  rejoice; 
Is  this  the  country  of  our  choice? 
Is  this  the  long-sought  happy  soil. 
Where  plenty  spreads  the  board  of  toil? 

ALL. 

Land!  land!  land! 

FOURTH  VOICE. 

How  gladly  through  its  paths  we'll  tread, 
With  bounding  step,  uplifted  head, 
And  through  its  wilds  and  forests  roam, 
To  clear  our  farms,  to  build  our  home ; 
And  sleep  at  night,  and  never  dread 
That  morn  shall  see  us  wanting  bread. 

ALL. 

Land!  land!  land! 


LEAVES.  185 

FIFTH   VOICE. 

We've  passed  together  o'er  the  sea; 
In  storm  and  sunshine,  comrades  we; 
But  ere  we  part  we'll  gather  round 
And  shout  with  one  accord  the  sound — 

ALL. 

Land!  land!  land! 

SIXTH  VOICE. 

The  land  of  rivers  broad  and  deep; 
The  land  where  he  who  sows  may  reap; 
The  land  where,  if  we  ploughmen  will. 
We  may  possess  the  fields  we  till; 
So  gather  all,  and  shout  once  more — 

ALL. 

The  land!  the  land!    Hurrah  for  shore! 

Charles  Mackay 


LXXXIX.— X^.^  VES, 

LEAVES  are  so  common  that  we  do  not  observe  how 
beautiful  they  are.  But  let  us  take  any  common  leaf 
ir^to  our  hand  and  examine  it — say  the  leaf  of  the  straw- 
berry-plant. See  how  prettily  it  is  notched.  Hold  it  up  to 
the  light,  and  see  the  lines  that  run  from  the  middle  line 
to  the  edge.  Then  observe  how  delicate  and  beautiful  is 
the  fine  network  between  these  lines. 

2.  Notice  also  the  back  of  the  leaf,  and  you  will  see  ribs 
that  spread  out  from  the  main  rib  in  the  middle  to  the 
3dge.  These  form  the  frame  of  the  leaf,  just  as  timbers  are 
the  frame  of  a  house.  They  are  to  the  leaf  what  whale- 
bones are  to  an  umbrella.  They  give  strength  to  it,  and 
without  it  the  leaf  would  look  faded  and  hang  down. 
These  ribs  are  very  large  in  broad-spreading  leaves,  as  in 
those  of  the  vine  and  rhubarb-plant;  while  in  leaves  that 
are  stiff  and  firm,  like  the  holly  and  the  laurel,  the  ribs  are 
very  small. 


186  THE   FOUETH   READER. 

3.  Some  leaves  are  of  a  very  singular  shape,  and  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  is  that  of  the  pitcher-plant,  a  native 
of  China.  At  the  end  of  the  leaf  the  main  rib  extends  like 
a  tendril,  and  to  this  is  attached  a  little  pitcher  with  a  lid 
on  the  top.  This  lid,  though  it  can  be  raised,  is  generally 
shut  down.  The  rain,  therefore,  cannot  get  in,  and  yet  the 
pitcher  is  always  full  of  water. 

4.  Now,  how  do  you  suppose  this  water  gets  there  ?  It 
is  a  part  of  the  sap  of  the  plant,  and  is  poured  from  thou- 
sands of  little  mouths  on  the  inside  into  the  pitcher,  which 
is  thus  kept  filled  with  water. 

5.  This  plant  is  quite  common  in  the  island  of  Ceylon, 
where  it  is  called  the  monkey-cup,  because  the  monkeys 
sometimes  open  the  lid  and  drink  the  water.  Men,  too, 
sometimes  drink  from  these  little  pitchers,  when  there  is 
no  spring  of  water  at  hand  where  they  can  quench  their 
thirst. 

6.  The  leaf  of  the  Venus  fly-trap — a  plant  which  is  a 
native  of  Canada — is  a  real  trap  for  flies  and  other  insects. 
When  undisturbed,  it  looks  as  if  no  danger  were  there ;  but 
let  an  insect  alight  on  the  leaf,  and  he  is  made  a  prisoner 
at  once.  The  two  parts  of  the  leaf  close,  and  the  points  on 
the  edges  are  locked  together,  so  as  to  furnish  bars  to  the 
prison. 

7.  Most  leaves  are  thin,  but  some  are  very  thick,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  India-rubber  tree.  The  plants  called  cac- 
tuses have  thick  fleshy  leaves,  which  make  them  look  very 
awkward ;  but  the  flowers  are  very  beautiful.  It  is  a  sin- 
gular fact  that  if  one  of  the  leaves  be  broken  ofi"  and  put 
into  the  ground,  it  will  take  root  and  grow. 

8.  Why  does  a  leaf  fade  when  it  is  plucked  from  a  tree? 
It  is  because  the  sap  can  no  longer  get  to  it ;  just  as  no 
water  can  get  into  a  house  when  the  water-pipe  is  cut  ofl! 
When  the  leaf  is  on  the  tree,  the  sap  flows  to  all  parts  of  it 
through  the  ribs  of  the  leaf;  the  ribs,  like  the  stem,  having 
innumerable  little  pipes  in  them  for  the  sap  to  run  in. 
But  when  a  leaf  is  plucked,  the  watery  part  of  the  sap 


LEAVES.  •  187 

escapes  into  the  air  through  innumerable  little  holes  or 
pores  on  the  under  surface  of  the  leaf,  so  small  that  they 
cannot  be  seen  without  the  aid  of  a  powerful  microscope. 
When  the  ribs  and  the  fine  network  between  them  have 
thus  lost  their  supply  of  sap,  the  leaf  is  said  to  be  faded. 

9.  The  water  in  the  leaf  of  the  pitcher-plant,  as  already 
stated,  comes  from  the  pores  on  the  inside.  If,  instead  of 
having  a  pitcher  shape,  the  leaf  were  laid  open  and  spread 
out  like  a  common  leaf,  the  water  would  all  pass  away  into 
the  air ;  but  the  little  pitcher,  with  its  curious  lid,  prevents 
the  moisture  from  escaping,  and  is  soon  quite  full.  This 
shows  how  much  water  escapes  from  leaves  into  the  air. 
If  any  common  leaf  could  be  changed  into  a  pitcher  or  cup 
shape,  with  a  lid  on  it,  it  would  soon  become  filled  with 
water,  flowing  into  it  from  the  pores  of  the  leaf. 

10.  Leaves  may  be  said  to  be  continually  breathing 
moisture  into  the  air.  This  moisture  helps  to  make  the 
air  soft,  and  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  makes  it  balmy. 
Each  leaf,  it  is  true,  yields  but  little  water,  and  so  does  but 
little  good  in  this  way ;  but  there  are  so  many  leaves  that 
a  large  quantity  of  moisture  is  continually  escaping  from 
them  into  the  air. 

11.  Those  who  desire  to  do  good  in  the  world  may  learn 
a  lesson  from  the  leaves.  A  large  amount  of  good  may  be 
done  when  each  does  a  little.  Let  each  do  all  the  good  he 
can ;  and  though  it  may  not  be  noticed  by  others,  God  sees 
it  all,  and  remembers  it. 


188  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

XC.—THU  KIJVG  OF  TEE  WIJVD, 

I. 

HE  burst  through  the  ice-pillared  gates  of  the  north, 
And  away  on  his  hurricane  wings  he  rushed  forth: 
He  exulted  all  free  in  his  might  and  his  speed, 
He  mocked  at  the  Lion,  and  taunted  the  steed : 
He  whistled  along  through  "each  cranny  and  creek; 
He  whirled  o'er  the  mountains  with  hollow-toned  shriek; 
The  arrow  and  eagle  were  laggard  behind, 
And  alone  in  his  flight  sped  the  King  of  the  Wind ! 

n. 
He  swept  o'er  the  earth — the  tall  battlements  fell, 
And  he  laughed,  as  they  crumbled,  with  maniac  yell; 
The  broad  oak  of  the  wood  dared  to  wrestle  again, 
Till,  wild  in  his  fury,  he  hurled  it  in  twain : 
He  grappled  with  pyramids,  works  of  an  age, 
And  dire  records  were  left  of  his  havoc  and  rage. 
No  power  could  brave  him,  no  fetters  could  bind : 
Supreme  in  his  sway  was  the  King  of  the  Wind! 

in. 
He  careered  o'er  the  waters  with  death  and  despair ; 
He  wrecked  the  proud  ship — and  his  triumph  was  there: 
The  cheeks  that  had  blanched  not  at  foeman  or  blade. 
At  the  sound  of  his  breathing  turned  pale  and  afraid: 
He  rocked  the   stanch   light-house,  he  shivered  the  mast ; 
He  howled; — the  strong  life-boat  in  fragments  was  cast; 
And  he  roared  in  his  glory,  "  Where,  where  will  you  find 
A  despot  so  great  as  the  King  of  the  Wind  ? " 

Eliza  Cook. 

EXERCISE. 

1.  He  rejoiced  in  his  strength  and  his  swiftness. 

2.  He  laughed  at  the  lion  and  sneered  at  the  horse. 

3.  He  rushed  o'er  the  earth — the  tall  fortifications  fell. 

4.  He  exulted  with  a  mad  cry  as  they  broke  into  pieces. 
6.  Cheeks  never  turned  pale  at  enemy  or  sword. 

6.  He  rocked  the  strong  light-house ;  he  shuttered  the  mast 

7.  Where  will  you  find  so  great  a  tyrant  f 


THE   HAPPY   FAMILY.  189 

XCL—TRU  HAPPY  FAMILY. 

AMONG  the  novel  sights  which  throng  the  streets  of 
the  city  of  London,  for  the  cheap  entertainment  of 
the  people,  none  of  them  has  made  a  more  pleasant  im- 
pression on  my  mind  than  a  family  circle  of  different  ani- 
mals and  birds,  whose  deportment  is  truly  an  admirable 
illustration  of  the  reign  of  peace.  The  proprietor  of  this 
novel  menagerie  calls  it,  very  appropriately,  "The  Happy 
Family." 

2.  A  cage  would  be  too  harsh  a  name  for  this  place  of 
residence,  which  is  almost  simple  enough  to  be  of  their 
own  construction.  It  is  rather  a  large,  square  hen-coop, 
placed  on  a  low  handcart,  which  the  man  draws  about 
from  one  street  to  another,  and  gets  a  few  pennies  a  day 
from  those  who  stop  to  look  at  the  domestic  felicity  of  his 
motley  family  circle. 

3.  Perhaps  the  first  thing  that  strikes  the  eye  is  a  large 
cat  "washing  her  face,"  with  a  dozen  large  rats  nestling 
under  her  like  so  many  kittens,  whilst  others  are  climbing 
up  her  back  and  playing  with  her  whiskers.  In  another 
corner  of  the  room,  a  dove  and  hawk  are  billing  and  cooing 
on  the  head  of  a  dog  which  is  resting  across  the  neck  of  a 
rabbit. 

4.  The  floor  is  covered  with  the  oddest  social  circles 
imaginable.  Here  weasels,  and  guinea-pigs,  and  funny, 
peeping  chickens  are  putting  their  noses  together  caress- 
ingly. The  slats  above  are  covered  with  birds  whose 
natural  antipathies  have  been  subdued  into  mutual  affec- 
tion by  the  law  of  kindness.  For  instance,  a  grave  old  owl 
is  sitting  bolt  upright,  and  meditating  in  the  sun,  with  a 
twittering,  keen-sighted  sparrow  perched  between  his  cat 
ears,  and  trying  to  open  the  eyes  of  the  old  sage  Avith  his 
sharp  bill. 

5.  I  never  pass  this  establishment  without  stopping  to 
look  at  the  scene  it  presents.  Its  teachings  are  more  elo- 
quent than  a  hundred  lectures   on  peace  and  universal 


iyt>  THE   FOUETH   READEB. 

brotherhood.  I  love  to  see  the  children  stop  to  look  at  it, 
for  I  know  they  will  carry  away  a  lesson  which  will  do 
them  good ;  they  will  think  of  it  on  their  way  to  school, 
and  at  home  too,  I  hope,  when  anything  crosses  their  will 
in  the  family  circle  or  playground.  I  could  not  but  wish 
that  this  "  Happy  Family  "  might  be  exhibited  every  morn- 
,ing  to  all  the  unhappy  human  families  in  the  land. 

Elihu  Burritt. 


XQll.—IJ^VOCATIOJr  TO  RA.IN  IJf  SUMMER. 


O  GENTLE,  gentle  summer  rain, 
Let  not  the  silver  lily  pine, 
The  drooping  Hly  pine  in  vain 

To  feel  that  dewy  touch  of  thine — 
To  drink  thy  freshness  once  again, 
O  gentle,  gentle  summer  rain ! 


n. 

In  heat  the  landscape  quivering  lies; 

The  cattle  pant  beneath  the  tree; 
Through  parching  air  and  purple  skies 

The  earth  looks  up,  in  vain,  for  thee; 
For  thee — for  thee,  it  looks  in  vain, 
O  gentle,  gentle  summer  rain ! 


m. 

Come,  then,  and  brim  the  meadow  streams, 

And  soften  all  the  hills  with  mist, 
O  falling  dew!  from  burning  dreams 

By  thee  shall  herb  and  flower  be  kissed. 
And  Earth  shall  bless  thee  yet  again, 
O  gentle,  gentle  summer  rain ! 

W.  C.  Bennett 


THE   DISCONTENTED   PENDULUM.  191 

XCIII.— r^^  BISCOKTEKTEB  FEJ^BVLVM. 

AN  old  clock  that  had  stood  for  fifty  years  in  a  farmer's 
kitchen  without  giving  its  owner  any  cause  of  com- 
plaint, early  one  summer's  morning,  before  the  family  was 
stirring,  suddenly  stopped.  Upon  this,  the  dial-plate  (if 
we  may  credit  the  fable)  changed  countenance  with  alarm ; 
the  hands  made  a  vain  effort  to  continue  their  course ;  the 
wheels  remained  motionless  with  surprise;  the  weights 
hung  speechless;  each  member  felt  disposed  to  lay  the 
blame  on  the  others.  At  length  the  dial  instituted  an  in- 
quiry as  to  the  cause  of  the  stagnation,  when  hands,  wheels, 
Weights,  with  one  voice,  protested  their  innocence. 

2.  But  now  a  faint  tick  was  heard  below  from  the  pen- 
dulum, who  thus  spoke :  "  I  confess  myself  to  be  the  sole 
cause  of  the  present  stoppage,  and  I  am  willing,  for  the 
general  satisfaction,  to  assign  my  reasons.  The  truth  is, 
that  I  am  tired  of  ticking."  Upon  hearing  this,  the  old 
clock  became  so  enraged  that  it  was  on  the  very  point  of 
striking. 

3.  "  Lazy  wire ! "  exclaimed  the  dial-plate,  holding  up  its 
hands. 

"  Very  good ! "  replied  the  pendulum ;  "  it  is  vastly  easy 
for  you,  Mistress  Dial,  who  have  always,  as  everybody 
knows,  set  yourself  up  above  me — it  is  vastly  easy  for  you, 
I  say,  to  accuse  other  people  of  laziness !  You,  who  have 
had  nothing  to  do  all  the  days  of  your  life  but  to  stare 
people  in  the  face,  and  to  amuse  yourself  with  watching  all 
that  goes  on  in  the  kitchen !  Think,  I  beseech  you,  how  you 
would  like  to  be  shut  up  for  life  in  this  dark  closet,  and 
to  wag  backwards  and  forwards  year  after  year,  as  I  do." 

4.  "  As  to  that,"  said  the  dial,  "  is  there  not  a  window  in 
your  house  for  you  to  look  through  ?  " 

"  For  all  that,"  resumed  the  pendulum,  "  it  is  very  dark 
here,  and,  although  there  is  a  window,  I  dare  not  stop,  even 
for  an  instant,  to  look  out  at  it.  Besides,  I  am  really  tired 
of  my  way  of  life ;  and  if  you  wish,  I  '11  tell  you  how  I  took 


192  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

this  disgust  at  my  employment.  I  happened  this  morning 
to  be  calculating  how  many  times  I  should  have  to  tick  in 
the  course  of  only  the  next  twenty -four  hours;  perhaps 
some  of  you  above  there  can  give  me  the  exact  sum." 

5.  The  minute-hand,  being  quick  at  figures,  replied, 
'^  Eighty-six  thousand  four  hundred  times." 

"  Exactly  so,"  replied  the  pendulum.  "  Well,  I  appeal 
to  you  all,  if  the  very  thought  of  this  was  not  enough  to 
fatigue  one;  and  when  I  began  to  multiply  the  strokes  of 
one  day  by  those  of  months  and  years,  really  it  is  no  won- 
der if  I  felt  discouraged  at  the  prospect;  so,  after  a  great 
deal  of  reasoning  and  hesitation,  thinks  I  to  myself,  I  '11 
stop." 

6.  The  dial  could  scarcely  keep  its  countenance  during 
this  harangue,  but,  resuming  its  gravity,  thus  replied: 
"  Dear  Mr.  Pendulum,  I  am  really  astonished  that  such  a 
useful,  industrious  person  as  yourself  should  have  been 
overcome  by  this  sudden  suggestion.  It  is  true,  you  have 
done  a  great  deal  of  work  in  your  time;  so  have  we  all, 
and  are  likely  to  do,  which,  although  it  may  fatigue  us  to 
think  of,  the  question  is,  whether  it  will  fatigue  us  to  do. 
Will  you  now  give  about  half  a  dozen  strokes,  to  illustrate 
my  argument?" 

7.  The  pendulum  complied,  and  ticked  six  times  in  its 
usual  pace.  "  Now,"  resumed  the  dial,  "  may  I  be  allowed 
to  inquire  if  that  exertion  was  at  all  fatiguing  or  disagree- 
able to  you?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  replied  the  pendulum ;  "  it  is  not  of 
six  strokes  that  I  complain,  nor  of  sixty,  but  of  millions.^^ 

8.  "Very  good,"  replied  the  dial;  "but,  recollect  that, 
though  you  may  think  of  a  million  strokes  in  an  instant, 
you  are  required  to  execute  but  one,  and  that,  however 
often  you  may  hereafter  have  to  swing,  a  moment  will 
always  be  given  you  to  swing  in." 

"  Then  I  hope,"  resumed  the  dial-plate,  "  we  shall  all 
immediately  return  to  our  duty,  for  the  maids  will  lie  in 
bed  till  noon  if  we  stand  idling  thus." 


LITTLE   BELL.  193 

9.  Upon  this  the  weights,  who  had  never  been  accused 
of  light  conduct,  used  all  their  influence  in  urging  him  to 
proceed ;  when,  as  with  one  consent,  the  wheels  began  to 
turn,  the  hands  began  to  move,  and  the  pendulum  began 
to  swing ;  while  a  red  beam  of  the  rising  sun  that  streamed 
through  a  hole  in  the  kitchen,  shining  full  upon  the  dial- 
plate,  it  brightened  up  as  if  nothing  had  been  the  matter. 
When  the  farmer  came  down  to  breakfast  that  morning, 
upon  looking  at  the  clock,  he  declared  that  his  watch  had 
gained  half  an  hour  in  the  night. 

Jane  Taylok. 


X.C1N.— LITTLE  BELL, 
I. 

PIPED  the  blackbird  on  the  beechwood  spray, 
''  Pretty  maid,  slow  wandering  this  way, 
What's  your  name?"  quoth  he, — 
"  Wliat  's  your  name  ?    Oh,  stop  and  straight  unfold, 
Pretty  maid  with  showery  curls  of  gold." — 
"Little  Bell,"  said  she. 

II. 

Little  Bell  sat  down  beneath  the  rocks, 
Tossed  aside  her  gleaming  golden  locks, — 

"  Bonny  bird,"  quoth  she, 
"Sing  me  your  best  song  before  I  go." 
"Here's  the  very  finest  song  I  know, 

Little  Bell,"  said  he. 

ni. 

And  the  blackbird  piped;  you  never  heard 
Half  so  gay  a  song  from  any  bird, — 

Full  of  quips  and  wiles. 
Now  so  round  and  rich,  now  soft  and  slow, 
All  for  love  of  that  sweet  face  below, 

Dimpled  o'er  with  smiles.  , 

IV. 

And  the  while  the  bonny  bird  did  pour 
His  full  heart  freely  o'er  and  o'er 
4  U 


194  THE   FOURTH    READER. 

'Neath  the  morning  skies, 
In  the  Httle  childish  heart  below 
All  the  sweetness  seemed  to  grow  and  grow, 
And  shine  forth  in  happy  overflow 

From  the  blue,  bright  eyes. 

V. 

Down  the  dell  she  tripped  and  through  the  glade, 
Peeped  the  squirrel  from  the  hazel  shade, 

And  from  out  the  tree 
Swung,  and  leaped,  and  frolicked,  void  of  fear; 
While  bold  blackbird  piped  that  all  might  hear,— 

"Little  Bell,"  piped  he. 

VI. 

Little  Bell  sat  down  amid  the  fern, — 
"  Squirrel,  squirrel,  to  our  task  return ; 

Bring  me  nuts,"  quoth  she. 
Up  away  the  frisky  squirrel  hies, — 
Golden  wood-lights  glancing  in  his  eyes, — 

And  adown  the  tree 
Great  ripe  nuts,  kissed  brown  by  July  sun. 
In  the  little  lap  dropped  one  by  one. 
Hark!  how  blackbird  pipes  to  see  the  fun! 

"Happy  Bell!"  pipes  he. 

VII. 

Little  Bell  looked  up  and  down  the  glade, — 
"  Squirrel,  squirrel,  if  you  're  not  afraid. 

Come  and  share  with  me!" 
Down  came  squirrel  eager  for  his  fare, 
Down  came  bonny  blackbird,  I  declare ; 
Little  Bell  gave  each  his  honest  share, — 

Ah,  the  merry  three ! 

vin. 
And  the  while  these  frolic  playmates  twain 
Piped  and  frisked  from  bough  to  bough  again, 

'Neath  the  morning  skies, 
In  the  little  childish  heart  below 
All  the  sweetness  seemed  to  grow  and  grow. 
And  shine  out  in  happy  overflow 

From  her  blue,  bright  eyes. 


STONE   BROTH.  195 

IX. 

By  her  snow-white  cot,  at  close  of  day, 
Knelt  sweet  Bell,  with  folded  palms,  to  pray  ; 

Very  calm  and  clear 
Kose  the  praying  voice  to  where,  unseen. 
In  blue  heaven,  an  angel  shape  serene 

Paused  awhile  to  hear. 

X. 

"What  good  child  is  this,"  the  angel  said, 
"That  with  happy  heart  beside  her  bed 

Prays  so  lovingly?" 
Low  and  soft,  oh,  very  low  and  soft 
Crooned  the  blackbird  in  the  orchard  croft, 

"  Bell,  dear  Bell ! "  crooned  he. 

XI. 

"Whom  God's  creatures  love,"  the  angel  fair 
Murmured,  "God  doth  bless  with  angels'  care; 

Child,  thy  bed  shall  be 
Folded  safe  from  harm.    Love,  deep  and  kind, 
Shall  watch  around  thee,  and  leave  good  gifts  behind. 

Little  Bell,  for  thee ! " 

Thomas  Westwood. 


XCY—STOJVi:  BROTH. 

A  POOR  desolate  traveller,  overtaken  by  a  storm  of 
wind  and  rain,  and  oppressed  by  fatigue  and  hun- 
ger, came  by  chance  to  a  house  of  affluence  and  begged  for 
a  little  charity,  but  was  repulsed  with  a  surly  answer  that 
there  was  nothing  for  him.  He  then  begged  only  to  be 
permitted  to  dry  his  clothes  and  warm  himself  by  the 
kitchen  fire.  As  this  request  was  for  what  cost  nothing,  it 
was  granted. 

2.  Finding  it  was  not  probable  that  he  would  get  any- 
thing in  that  place,  he  set  his  wits  to  work,  and  first  humbly 
asked  the  cook  to  permit  him  to  have  the  use  of  a  sauce- 
pan and  a  little  clean  water,  that  he  might  make  a  dish  of 
stone  broth. 

3.  The  oddity  of  the  thought  raised  the  curiosity  of  the 


196  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

inmates  of  the  kitchen,  who  seconded  his  request.  The 
traveller  picked  up  a  stone  from  the  high  road,  and,  wash- 
ing it  perfectly  clean,  put  it  into  the  saucepan  of  water. 
He  then  craved  a  morsel  of  salt  and  a  little  pepper,  and  an 
onion  and  some  scraps  which  the  cook  had  discarded. 

4.  Thus  he  made  a  very  savory  mess  for  himself,  to  the 
great  amusement  of  the  spectators,  who  not  only  let  him 
enjoy  his  stone  broth  in  peace,  but  were  so  well  pleased 
with  his  ingenuity  that  they  gave  him  also  a  dinner;  and 
he  departed  dry,  warm,  and  well  fed. 

5.  This  fable  gives  an  example  of  the  beneficial  effects  of 
a  little  ingenuity  when  aided  by  perseverance  and  activity 
— how  unlike  the  conduct  of  those  idle  fools  who  drop  all 
endeavor  on  the  first  check  they  receive,  and  if  everything 
does  not  answer  their  silly  expectations,  quickly  cry  out 
that  it  is  useless  to  make  any  further  efforts. 

6.  Such  is  the  conduct  of  the  slothful  and  the  short- 
sighted, who  must  again  and  again  be  reminded  that 
nothing  is  denied  to  industry  and  perseverance,  and  that 
nothing  is  to  be  got  without  them. 

James  Northcote. 

XCYL—THE  VILLAGE  BLACKSMITH. 


"TT'NDER  a  spreading  chestnut  tree 

KJ    The  village  smithy  stands; 
The  smith,  a  mighty  man  is  he, 

With  large  and  sinewy  hands; 
And  the  muscles  of  his  brawny  arms 

Are  strong  as  iron  bands. 

II. 
His  hair  is  crisp,  and  black,  and  long; 

His  face  is  like  the  tan; 
His  brow  is  wet  with  honest  sweat; 

He  earns  whate'er  he  can; 
And  looks  the  whole  world  in  the  face, 

For  he  owes  not  any  man. 


THE    VILLAGE    BLACKSMITH. 


197 


III. 

Week  in,  week  out,  from  morn  till  night, 
You  can  hear  his  bellows  blow; 

You  can  hear  him  swing  his  heavy  sledge, 
With  measured  beat  and  slow. 

Like  a  sexton  ringing  the  village  bell 
When  the  evening  sun  is  low. 


IV. 

And  children,  coming  home  from  school, 

Look  in  at  the  open  door; 
They  love  to  see  the  flaming  forge. 

And  hear  the  bellows  roar, 
And  catch  the  burning  sparks  that  fly 

Like  chafl*  from  a  threshing-floor. 


198  THE  FOUETH   READER. 


He  goes  on  Sunday  to  the  church, 

And  sits  among  his  boys; 
He  hears  the  parson  pray  and  preach; 

He  hears  his  daughter's  voice 
Singing  in  the  village  choir, 

And  it  makes  his  heart  rejoice. 

VI. 

It  sounds  to  him  like  her  mother's  voice. 

Singing  in  Paradise! 
He  needs  must  think  of  her  once  more, 

How  in  the  grave  she  lies; 
And  with  his  hard,  rough  hand  he  wipes 

A  tear  out  of  his  eyes. 

vn. 
Toiling — r  ej  oi  cing — sorrowing — 

Onward  through  life  he  goes; 
Each  morning  sees  some  task  begin, 

Each  evening  sees  it  close; 
Something  attempted,  something  done, 

Has  earned  a  night's  repose. 

VIII. 
Thanks,  thanks  to  thee,  my  worthy  friend, 

For  the  lesson  thou  hast  taught! 
Thus  at  the  flaming  forge  of  life 
Our  fortunes  must  be  wrought; 
Thus  on  its  sounding  anvil  shaped 
Each  burning  deed  and  thought. 

Longfellow, 

EXERCISE. 

1.  Under  a  hroad  chestnut  tree  the  blacksmith's  shop  stands. 

2.  The  muscles  of  his  strong  arms  are  stout  as  iron  bands. 

3.  His  forehead  is  moist  with  honest  perspiration. 

4.  He  looks  everybody  in  the  face. 

6.  You  can  hear  him  swing  his  ponderous  hammer. 

6.  Something  tried,  something  accomplished,  has  earned  a  night's  rest. 

7.  Laboring — being  joy  Jul — grieving — onward  through  life  he  goes. 


OUR  earth's  brothers  and  sisters.  199 

XCVIL-6>C/72  EARTH'S  BROTHERS  AJ^D  SISTERS 

PART  FIRST. 

DO  you  know  what  an  astronomer  is  ?  Astra  is  a  Latin 
word  which  means  stars,  and  astronomers  are  men 
who  make  it  their  business  to  study  the  stars,  and  to  find 
out  all  they  can  about  them. 

2.  During  the  long  nights,  while  we  are  sleeping  quietly 
in  our  beds,  these  astronomers  sit  looking  through  telescopes 
and  other  instruments,  and  doing  terribly  hard  sums,  from 
the  time  the  evening  stars  first  peep  out  until  the  broad 
flood  of  daylight  drowns  them. 

3.  They  are  the  postmen  who  bring  us  news  of  our  brother 
and  sister  worlds  that  float  with  us  round  the  sun,  and  of 
those  other  far-ofi"  suns — or  stars,  as  we  call  them — which, 
if  we  like,  we  may  think  of  as  uncles  to  our  little  earth, 
and  fathers  to  heaps  of  cousins  whom  we  shall  never  see, 
nor  know,  so  long  as  we  live. 

4.  It  is  very  nice  to  have  a  whole  family  of  brothers  and 
sisters.     Do  you  not  think  so  ? 

5.  Even  if  some  of  them  live  so  far  off"  or  are  so  small 
that  we  can  only  see  them  through  a  telescope,  still,  it  is 
pleasant  to  think  of  them,  and  to  believe  that  they  are  all 
well  off",  comfortable,  and  happy  in  their  own  way. 

6.  When  on  a  clear  evening  you  look  up  into  the  space 
above  and  around  you,  you  see  it  crowded  with  thousands 
of  stars,  and  if  the  earth  on  which  you  stand  were  trans- 
parent, like  the  air,  you  would  see  as  many  stars  beneatli 
your  feet  as  over  your  head.  Almost  all  of  them  are 
true  stars — that  is,  suns  shining  with  their  own  light,  far. 
far  away — ^but  a  few,  a  very  few,  of  them  belong  to  oui 
own  family  of  worlds.  They  are  much  nearer  to  us,  and 
although  they  shine  only  with  the  reflected  sunlight,  just 
as  our  own  earth  and  moon  do,  they  yet  look  so  bright, 
and  so  exactly  like  the  stars,  that  it  is  not  easy,  without  a 
proper  spy-glass,  to  tell  them  apart. 

7.  Astronomers  call  these  worlds  planets,  from  a  Greek 


200  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

word  which  means  to  wander,  because  they  wander  or 
move  round  the  sun,  and  have  also  given  each  of  them  a 
name  of  its  own,  in  order  to  distinguish  them  from  one 
another.  They  all  move  round  the  sun  in  the  same  direc- 
tion with  our  earth;  two  of  them  are  nearer  to  the  sun 
than  we,  and  the  rest  are  farther  off. 

8.  Mercury  is  the  name  of  the  little  planet  which  is 
nearest  to  the  sun.  It  would  take  sixteen  Mercuries  to 
make  a  world  as  large  as  ours ;  still,  I  dare  say  the  people 
there  find  it  quite  big  enough,  and  like  it  very  much. 
They  have  a  day  and  night  about  as  long  as  ours,  but  their 
year  lasts  only  for  three  of  our  months,  so  that  a  little  girl 
ten  years  of  age  in  our  world  would  be  called  forty  there. 
We  do  not  know  much  about  the  planet  Mercury,  because 
it  is  so  near  the  sun  that  we  are  only  able  to  see  it  some- 
times, for  a  short  time,  just  after  sunset  or  just  before 
sunrise. 

9.  Next  beyond  Mercury  comes  Venus.  Venus  is  twice 
as  far  from  the  sun  as  Mercury  is,  but  nearer  to  us  than 
either  of  the  other  planets.  As  it  is  nearly  equal  in  size  to 
our  earth,  it  appears  like  a  very  large,  bright,  and  beautiful 
star,  though  not  so  bright  as  our  earth  must  look  to  the 
good  people  there,  because,  since  the  path  of  Venus  lies  be- 
tween us  and  the  sun,  she  changes  like  a  little  moon,  and 
a  large  part  of  her  night  side  is  often  turned  towards  us, 
while  we  present  her  with  the  whole,  or  nearly  the  whole, 
of  our  broad  daylight  face. 

10.  Next  to  Venus  floats  our  own  dear  old  world,  while 
beyond  us,  and  twice  as  far  from  us  as  Venus,  is  the  planet 
Mars,  about  twice  the  size  of  Mercury.  As  Mars,  when 
nearest  to  us,  shows  us  his  sunny  side,  as  we  show  ours  to 
Venus,  we  have  a  fine  opportunity  for  seeing  what  kind  of 
looking  fellow  he  is.  Astronomers  have  discovered  moun- 
tains upon  his  surface,  as  well  as  upon  Venus  and  Mercury, 
and  also  seas  and  snow. 

11.  You  are  not  to  suppose  that  they  see  the  snow  as  you 
see  it  lying  upon  the  ground  when  you  look  out  of  the  win- 


OUR   EARTH'S   BROTHERS   AND   SISTERS.  201 

dow  on  a  winter's  day ;  for  you  must  know  that  the  distance 
of  Mars  is  at  all  times  so  great  that,  even  through  the  most 
powerful  telescopes,  it  is  only  possible  to  distinguish  very 
large  lights  and  shadows  upon  it. 

12.  It  has  been  noticed  that  the  cold  countries  of  Mars 
become  very  bright  when  they  are  leaned  away  from  the 
sun — that  is  to  say,  when  it  is  winter  with  them, — while, 
during  the  other  half  of  their  year,  which  is  twice  as  long 
as  ours,  when  they  lean  towards  the  sun  and  become 
warmed,  this  great  brightness  disappears  gradually,  so  that 
there  is  very  little  doubt  of  its  being  caused  by  snow,  which 
melts  away  in  the  summer-time. 

13.  Worlds  in  which  there  are  summer  and  winter,  land 
and  water,  mountains,  air,  and  clouds  from  which  rain  and 
snow  fall,  cheerful  daylight  for  work  and  play,  and  night 
for  rest,  cannot  be  very  different  from  our  own.  I  think 
we  may  feel  pretty  sure  that  there  are  plants  there  to  be 
nourished  by  the  sunshine,  the  air,  the  land,  and  the  water, 
animals  to  enjoy  all  that  the  sun  and  the  earth  give  them, 
and  also  human  beings  with  minds  to  understand  what  is 
good,  beautiful,  and  true,  and  hearts  to  love  it. 

14.  In  some  respects  Mars,  more  than  either  of  the  other 
planets,  appears  to  resemble  our  earth,  although  it  is  much 
smaller. 

XCVIII  -OUR  EARTH'S  BROTHERS  AJ^D  SISTERS 

PART  SECOND. 

THE  next  planet  beyond  Mars  is  enormously  large — 
almost  fifteen  hundred  times  the  size  of  our  world — 
so  that,  although  it  is  seven  times  farther  from  us  than 
Mars — so  far  that  it  would  take  the  railroad  cars  more  than 
two  thousand  years  to  reach  there — it  is  still  one  of  the 
brightest  and  most  beautiful  stars  in  the  sky.  This  is  the 
planet  Jupiter.  I  dare  say  you  have  often  had  it  pointed 
out  to  you. 

2.  Jupiter  has  four  moons,  which,  although  we  are  not 


202  THE  FOURTH  READER. 

able  to  see  them  excepting  by  the  help  of  a  telescope,  give 
the  people  there  a  great  deal  of  light. 

3.  I  have  said  that  Jupiter  is  the  next  planet  beyond 
Mars,  but  that  is  not  exactly  so.  I  must  tell  you  about  some- 
thing very  wonderful  which  is  between  them.  For  a  long 
time  it  was  supposed  that  the  great  space  which  separates 
these  two  planets  was  unoccupied,  but  some  astronomers 
felt  so  certain  that  there  must  be  a  world  there,  that  they 
set  themselves  to  look  for  it,  and  sure  enough,  after  a  great 
deal  of  looking,  they  discovered  four  small  planets  just 
about  where  they  had  expected  to  find  one  large  one. 

4.  It  seemed  very  strange  that,  instead  of  one,  there 
should  be  four,  all  about  the  same  distance  from  the  sun, 
but  still  stranger  that,  upon  examining  them  carefully,  they 
should  appear  not  to  be  round,  as  all  the  other  planets  are, 
but  of  an  irregular  form,  like  great  pieces  of  rock. 

5.  Since  then  a  great  many  smaller  fragments  have  been 
discovered,  and  there  are  doubtless  many  more  which  can- 
not be  seen  because  they  are  too  small,  for  at  that  great  dis- 
tance a  thing  must  be  pretty  large  for  us  to  see  it,  even 
through  the  most  powerful  telescope.  These  little  planets 
are  called  Asteroids. 

6.  There  seems  only  one  way  of  accounting  for  it,  and 
that  is  that  they  are  the  rough  fragments  of  what  was  once 
a  world.  Only  think  of  it — a  great,  round,  perfect  world 
dashed  to  pieces  by  an  earthquake  or  some  other  terrible 
power ! 

7.  Far  beyond  this  broken  world  floats,  as  I  have  told 
you,  the  great  planet  Jupiter  and  his  four  moons ;  and,  as 
distant  from  Jupiter  as  Jupiter  from  the  sun,  is  Saturn  with 
its  seven  moons  and  its  rings,  which  are  also  a  kind  of  moon, 
although  certainly  a  very  strange  kind. 

8.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  picture  of  Saturn  ?  I  had  seen 
a  great  many  such  pictures,  and  yet,  when  I  looked  at 
Saturn  itself  through  a  telescope,  it  was  so  wonderful  and 
so  beautiful  that  I  felt  almost  as  much  surprised  as  if  I  had 
not  known  what  to  expect. 


OUR   EARTH'S   BROTHERS   AND  SISTERS.  203 

9.  Saturn,  so  far  as  we  know,  is  the  only  planet  which 
has  these  curious  rings,  and  I  will  try  to  describe  them  to 
to  you. 

10.  If  you  were  to  break  the  middle  out  of  a  dinner-plate, 
so  as  to  have  nothing  but  the  rim  left,  and  were  to  hang  an 
apple  by  its  stem  just  in  the  centre  of  the  hole,  you  would 
have  something  like  Saturn  and  his  rings,  only  there  are 
two,  some  think  many,  rings,  one  inside  another,  like  the 
rims  of  plates  of  different  sizes. 

11.  Sometimes  the  thin  edge  of  the  rings  is  turned  toward 
us,  so  that  they  look  merely  like  odd  little  threads  of  light 
projecting  out  from  each  side  of  the  planet. 

12.  At  other  times  Saturn  is  tilted  towards  us  far  enough 
for  us  to  see  the  broad  side  of  the  rings  and  part  of  the 
space  between  them  and  Saturn,  with  the  round,  glowing 
planet  in  the  middle.  Oh,  then  it  looks  more  beautiful 
than  you  can  imagine,  for  both  planet  and  rings  shine  like 
the  brightest  moon. 

13.  Besides  these  rings,  Saturn  has  seven  moons,  so  there 
can  be  no  lack  of  moonlight  there,  but  then,  while  the  rings 
reflect  light  on  one  part  of  the  planet,  they  cast  a  strip  of 
shade  on  another ;  the  sun,  too,  is  at  such  a  great  distance 
from  Saturn  that  it  must  appear  more  than  a  hundred 
times  smaller  than  it  does  to  us,  and  must  give  less  than  a 
hundredth  part  the  light.  Still,  even  a  sun  of  that  appar- 
ent size,  so  great  is  its  brightness,  yields  more  light  than  two 
thousand  full  moons  such  as  ours. 

14.  We  need  not  pity  those  distant  brothers  of  our  earth 
because  they  are  so  far  from  the  sun,  for  the  degree  of  light 
and  heat  which  any  world  receives  depends  a  good  deal  on 
the  quantity  and  quality  of  its  air,  and  we  may  be  sure  that, 
in  some  wise  and  happy  way,  Saturn  and  its  inhabitants 
are  just  suited  to  their  sunshine,  and  their  sunshine  to 
them. 

15.  I  dare  say  the  little  boys  and  girls  there,  if  they  have 
ever  heard  of  our  earth,  say,  "I  wonder  the  people  can  bear 
to  live  in  that  world,  so  near  the  fiery  sun  I    I  should  think 


204  THE   FOURTH    READER. 

they  would  get  burnt  up ! "  and  yet,  you  know,  we  are  very 
comfortable  here,  excepting  sometimes  in  the  summer  we 
feel  rather  warm,  and  even  then  the  snow  lies  deep  on  the 
tops  of  our  mountains,  where  the  air  is  thin  and  light. 

16.  You  may  imagine  that  worlds  as  far  from  the  sun  as 
Jupiter  and  Saturn  can  scarcely  travel  round  it  as  soon  as 
we  do,  and  you  will  not,  therefore,  be  surprised  to  hear  that 
Jupiter  is  twelve  of  our  years  on  his  journey,  and  that 
Saturn's  year  is  as  long,  nearly,  as  thirty  of  ours.  Their 
days  and  nights,  however,  are  short — only  about  five  hours 
each. 

17.  I  am  afraid  you  are  getting  tired  of  planets,  but  I 
have  not  quite  done  yet,  because  Saturn  is  not  the  last  of 
them. 

18.  As  far  away  from  Saturn  as  Saturn  is  from  the  sun  is 
a  world  eighty  times  the  size  of  this  earth,  and  it  takes 
eighty-four  of  our  years  to  make  one  of  Herschel's.  If  we 
were  upon  this  planet,  which  is  called  Herschel  after  the 
astronomer  who  discovered  it,  to  our  eyes  the  sun  would 
appear  scarcely  larger  than  a  star,  but  we  cannot  tell  how 
it  may  look  to  the  people  who  live  there,  because  we  know 
nothing  about  them  or  their  eyes. 

19.  Other  planets  have  been  discovered  within  the  last 

few  years,  but  I  believe  very  little  is  known  concerning 

them,  and  I  am  sure  you  have  heard  quite  enough  about 

these  worlds  for  the  present,  and  will  be  glad  to  run  away 

and  talk  about  something  nearer  home. 

Emilie  Graham. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  The  next  planet  beyond  Mars  is  monstrously  large. 

2.  I  suppose  you  have  often  had  it  indicated  to  you. 

3.  A  great  many  smaller  pieces  have  heen  found. 

4.  Think  of  a  world  shattered  to  pieces  by  an  earthquake  or  come 

other  dreadful  power. 

5.  Sometimes  Saturn  is  tipped  towards  us  enough  for  us  to  see  the 

unde  side  of  the  rings. 

6.  Saturn  aiid  its  population  are  adapted  to  their  sunshine. 


LANDING  OF   THE   PILGRIM   FATHERS.  205 

X.ClX.—LAJrDIJrG  OF  THE  PILGRIM  FATHERS. 

I. 

THE  breaking  waves  dashed  high 
On  a  stern  and  rock-bound  coast; 
And  the  woods,  against  a  stormy  sky. 
Their  giant  branches  tossed; 

II. 

And  the  heavy  night  hung  dark, 

The  hills  and  waters  o'er. 
When  a  band  of  exiles  moored  their  baric 

On  the  wild  New  England  shore. 

III. 
Not  as  the  conqueror  comes, 

They,  the  true-hearted,  came. 
Not  with  the  roll  of  the  stirring  drums, 

And  the  trumpet  that  sings  of  fame; 

IV. 

Not  as  the  flying  come. 

In  silence  and  in  fear; — 
They  shook  the  depths  of  the  desert's  gloom 

With  their  hyinns  of  lofty  cheer. 

V. 
Amidst  the  storms  they  sang; 

And  the  stars  heard,  and  the  sea ; 
And  the  sounding  aisles  of  the  dim  woods  rang 

To  the  anthem  of  the  free. 

VI. 

The  ocean  eagle  soared 

From  his  nest  by  the  white  wave's  foam; 
And  the  rocking  pines  of  the  forest  roared, — 

This  was  their  welcome  home! 

VII. 

There  were  men  with  hoary  hair, 

Amidst  that  pilgrim  band; — 
Why  had  they  come  to  wither  there, 

Away  from  their  childhood's  land? 


206  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

VIII. 
There  was  woman's  fearless  eye, 

Lit  by  her  deep  love's  truth; 
There  was  manhood's  brow  serenely  high, 

And  the  fiery  heart  of  youth. 

IX. 

What  sought  they  thus  afar? 

Bright  jewels  of  the  mine? 
The  wealth  of  seas,  the  spoils  of  war? 

They  sought  a  faith's  pure  shrine. 

X. 

Ay,  call  it  holy  ground. 

The  soil  where  first  they  trod! 
They  have  left  unstained  what  there  they  found, 

Freedom  to  worship  God! 

Mrs.  Hemans. 

Q.—THE  TBJ.  VELIJ^G  MUSICIANS. 

PART  FIRST. 

AN  honest  farmer  had  a  donkey  that  had  been  a  faith- 
ful servant  to  him  for  many  years,  but  was  now 
growing  old  and  unfit  for  work ;  his  master,  therefore,  was 
tired  of  keeping  him,  and  began  to  think  of  rewarding  his 
services  by  putting  him  to  death. 

2.  The  donkey,  who  saw  that  some  mischief  was  in  the 
wind,  took  himself  ofif  slyly,  and  began  his  journey  towards 
Bremen,  for  there,  thought  he,  I  may  chance  to  be  chosen 
town  musician. 

3.  After  he  had  traveled  a  little  way,  he  saw  a  dog 
panting  by  the  road-side.  "What  is  the  matter  with 
you?"  said  the  donkey.  "Alas!"  replied  the  dog,  "my 
master  was  going  to  knock  me  on  the  head  because  I  am 
grown  too  old  to  be  useful  to  him,  so  I  ran  away ;  but  what 
can  I  do  to  earn  my  bread  ?  " 

4.  "  Hark  ye,"  said  the  donkey,  "  I  am  going  to  Bremen, 
to  turn  musician ;  suppose  you  go  with  me."  The  dog  said 
he  was  willing,  and  they  both  went  on  together. 


THE  TRAVELING    MUSICIANS.  207 

5.  They  had  not  gone  far  when  they  saw  a  cat  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  and  making  a  most  mournful  face. 
"  Pray,  my  good  lady,"  said  the  donkey,  "  what  is  the  mat- 
ter with  you?  you  look  quite  out  of  spirits." 

6.  "How  can  I  be  in  good  spirits  when  my  life  is  in 
danger?  Because  I  am  growing  old,  and  would  rather  lie 
still  than  run  about  the  house  after  the  mice,  my  mistress 
was  going  to  kill  me,  if  I  had  not  been  lucky  enough  to 
escape ;  but  I  do  not  know  what  to  live  upon." 

7.  "  Oh,"  said  the  donkey,  "  by  all  means  come  with  us 
to  Bremen;  you  are  a  very  good  singer;  in  that  way  we 
may  make  our  fortune."  The  cat  was  pleased  with  this 
thought,  and  joined  the  party. 

8.  Soon  afterwards,  as  they  were  passing  by  a  farm-yard, 
they  saw  a  cock  perched  upon  a  gate,  and  screaming  with 
all  his  might.  "  Bravo ! "  said  the  donkey ;  "  upon  my  word 
you  make  noise  enough ;  pray  what  is  all  this  about?" 

9.  "Why,"  said  the  cock,  "I  was  just  saying  that  we 
should  have  fine  weather  for  our  washing-day;  and  yet 
my  mistress  the  cook  don't  thank  me  for  it,  but  threatens 
to  cut  my  head  off,  to  make  broth  for  the  guests  that  are 
coming  on  Sunday." 

10.  "  Oh,  fie !"  said  the  donkey ;  "  come  with  us,  master 
chanticleer;  it  will  be  better  than  staying  here  to  have 
your  head  cut  off:  besides,  if  we  sing  in  tune,  who  knows 
but  we  may  get  up  a  concert?  so  come  along  with  us." 
"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  cock. 

11.  They  could  not  reach  the  town  the  first  day;  so 
when  night  came  they  went  into  a  wood  to  sleep.  The 
donkey  and  the  dog  laid  themselves  down  under  a  shady 
tree;  the  cat  climbed  up  into  the  branches;  the  cock, 
thinking  the  higher  he  got  up  the  safer  he  should  be,  flew 
up  to  the  top,  and,  according  to  his  custom,  before  going  to 
sleep,  he  looked  out  on  all  sides  of  him. 

12.  In  doing  this  he  saw  a  light,  and  called  out  to  his 
companions,  and  said  there  must  be  a  house  at  no  great 
distance  off,  for  he  could  see  a  light.    "  If  that  be  the  case," 


208  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

said  the  donkey,  "  we  had  better  change  our  quarters,  for 
our  lodging  is  not  the  beet  in  the  world." 

13.  "  Besides,"  said  the  dog,  "  I  should  not  be  the  worse 
for  a  bone  or  two."  So  they  walked  on  to  where  chanticleer 
had  seen  the  light.  As  they  drew  near,  it  became  brighter, 
till  they  came  close  to  the  house,  where  a  gang  of  robbers 
lived. 


CI.— THE  TBAYELIMG  MVSICIAMS. 

PART  SECOND. 

THE  donkey,  being  the  tallest  of  them,  marched  up  to 
the   window  and  peeped  in.     "Well,  friend,"  said 
chanticleer,  "  what  do  you  see  ?  " 

2.  "What  do  I  see  ?  "  rejoined  the  donkey :  "  I  see  a  table 
spread  with  all  kinds  of  good  things,  and  robbers  sitting 
round  and  making  merry."  "  That  will  be  a  noble  lodging 
for  us,"  said  the  cock.  "Yes,"  said  the  donkey,  "if  we 
could  only  get  in." 

3.  So  they  consulted  together  how  they  should  get  the 
robbers  out.  At  last  they  hit  upon  a  plan :  the  donkey 
placed  himself  upright  upon  his  hind  legs,  with  his  fore 
legs  against  the  window;  the  dog  got  upon  the  donkey's 
back;  the  cat  scrambled  upon  the  dog's  shoulders;  the 
cock  flew  up  and  stood  upon  the  cat's  head. 

4.  When  all  was  ready,  a  signal  was  given,  and  they 
began  their  music.  The  donkey  brayed,  the  dog  barked, 
the  cat  squalled,  the  cock  crowed,  and  they  all  broke 
through  the  window  at  once,  and  came  tumbling  into  the 
room,  among  the  broken  glass,  with  a  terrible  clatter. 

5.  The  robbers,  who  had  been  not  a  little  frightened  at 
the  opening  concert,  had  now  no  doubt  that  some  horrible 
hobgoblin  had  broken  in  upon  them,  and  scampered  away 
as  fast  as  they  could. 

6.  The  coast  once  cleared,  our  travelers  sat  down,  and 
dispatched  what  the  robbers  had  left  with  as  much  eager- 
ness as  if  they  expected  not  to  eat  again  for  a  month. 


THE  TRAVELING   MUSICIANS.  209 

7.  As  soon  as  they  had  satisfied  themselves,  they  put 
out  the  hghts,  and  each  one  sought  out  a  resting-place ;  the 
donkey  laid  himself  down  on  some  straw  in  the  yard,  the 
dog  stretched  himself  on  a  mat  behind  the  door,  the  cat 
rolled  herself  on  the  hearth  by  the  warm  ashes,  and  the 
cock  perched  himself  upon  a  beam  on  the  top  of  the  house, 
and  as  they  were  all  very  tired,  they  soon  fell  asleep. 

8.  About  midnight,  when  the  robbers  saw  from  a  distance 
that  the  lights  were  put  out,  they  began  to  think  that  they 
had  been  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  run  away.  So  one  of  them 
that  was  bolder  than  the  rest  went  to  see  what  was  going  on. 

9.  Finding  that  all  was  very  still,  he  marched  into  the 
kitchen,  and  groped  about  till  he  found  a  match  in  order 
to  light  a  candle,  and  then  espying  the  glittering  eyes  of 
the  cat,  he  mistook  them  for  live  coals,  and  held  the  match 
to  light  it.  The  cat,  not  liking  this  joke,  sprung  at  his  face, 
spit  at  and  scratched  him. 

10.  This  frightened  him  dreadfully,  and  away  he  ran  to 
the  back  door ;  but  the  dog  jumped  up,  yelped  at  him,  and 
bit  his  leg ;  the  donkey,  only  half  awake,  roused  up  when 
he  was  crossing  the  yard,  grunted  out  a  dismal  bray  and 
kicked  him ;  and  the  cock  clapped  his  wings  and  crowed 
with  all  his  might. 

11.  At  this  the  robber,  hardly  knowing  whether  he  was 
alive  or  dead,  ran  with  speed  to  his  companions,  and  told 
the  captain  that  a  horned  witch  had  got  into  the  house, 
and  spit  at  him,  and  scratched  him  with  her  long  and  bony 
fingers ;  that  a  man  had  hid  himself  behind  the  door,  and 
yelled  at  him,  and  stabbed  him  in  the  leg ;  that  a  black 
monster  stood  in  the  yard  and  roared  a  most  frightful 
sound,  and  struck  him  with  a  club ;  and  that  another  sat 
upon  the  top  of  the  house  and  screamed  out,  "  Throw  the 
rascal  up  here." 

12.  After  this  the  robbers  never  dared  go  back  to  the 
house;  but  the  musicians  were  so  well  pleased  with  their 
quarters  that  they  took  up  their  abode,  and  there  they 
probably  may  be  found  to  this  very  day. 

<  J  4 


210  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

Qll.—THE  SHIP  OK  FIRE. 

I. 

THERE  was  joy  in  the  ship  as  she  furrowed  the  foam. 
For  fond  hearts  within  her  were  dreaming  of  home. 
The  young  mother  pressed  fondly  her  babe  to  her  breast- 
And  sang  a  sweet  song  as  she  rocked  it  to  rest; 
And  the  husband  sat  cheerily  down  by  her  side, 
And  looked  with  delight  on  the  face  of  his  bride. 

n. 
"  Oh,  happy ! "  said  he,  "  when  our  roaming  is  o'er, 
We'll  dwell  in  a  cottage  that  stands  by  the  shore! 
Already  in  fancy  its  roof  I  descry. 
And  the  smoke  of  its  hearth  curling  up  to  the  sky; 
Its  garden  so  green,  and  its  vine-covered  wall, 
And  the  kind  friends  awaiting  to  welcome  us  all." 

III. 
Hark !  hark !  what  was  that !     Hark — ^hark  to  the  shout— 
"Fire!  fire!" — then  a  tramp  and  a  rush  and  a  rout — 
And  an  uproar  of  voices  arose  in  the  air, 
And  the  mother  knelt  down,  and  the  half-spoken  prayer 
That  she  offered  to  God  in  her  agony  wild 
Was  "  Father,  have  mercy !  look  down  on  my  child ! " 
She  flew  to  her  husband,  she  clung  to  his  side ; 
Oh,  there  was  her  refuge  whatever  betide ! 

IV. 

Fire!  fire!  it  is  raging  above  and  below; 

And  the  smoke  and  hot  cinders  all  blindingly  blow. 

The  cheek  of  the  sailor  grew  pale  at  the  sight. 

And  his  eyes  glistened  wild  in  the  glare  of  the  light. 

The  smoke  in  thick  wreaths  mounted  higher  and  higher; 

Oh  Heaven!  it  is  fearful  to  perish  by  fire! 

Alone  with  destruction — alone  on  the  sea! 

Great  Father  of  mercy,  our  hope  is  in  thee ! 

V. 

They  prayed  for  the  light,  and  at  noontide  about 
The  sun  o'er  the  waters  shone  joyously  out. 


THE   MONEY   PANIC.  211 

"A  sail,  ho!  a  sail!"  cried  the  man  on  the  lee, 
"A  sail!"  and  they  turned  their  glad  eyes  o'er  the  sea. 
"They  see  us!  they  see  us!  the  signal  is  waved! 
They  bear  down  upon  us, — thank  God!  we  are  saved!" 

C.  Mackay. 


QUI.— TEE  MOJ^EY  TAKIC. 

Mr.  Aubrey,  a  London  banker.    Mr.  Freeland,  a  merchant. 
Scene. — A  back-room  in  the  banking-house.    Mr.  Aubrey  enters, 
much  agitated. 

Aubrey.  It  is  a  perfect  panic  1  There  has  been  nothing 
like  it  since  eighteen  twenty-six.  The  run  on  the  bank 
was  fearful  yesterday,  and  I  was  glad  when  the  hour  of 
closing  arrived.  But  it  was  only  postponing  the  crash. 
Things  look  worse  still  to-day.  Every  man  who  has  a 
shilling  deposited  with  us  rushes  to  demand  it.  All  con- 
fidence is  gone ;  those  I  thought  my  friends  are  as  mad  as 
the  rest.  If  I  could  gain  a  little  time — but  no  I  [i^s^ms.] 
Hear  the  gold  jingling  on  my  counter !  It  can't  last  much 
longer  at  this  rate.  Ah !  here  comes  one  of  them — I  mustn't 
appear  disturbed.     What  can  I  do  for  you,  sir  ? 

Freeland,  I  have  come  to  ask  a  blunt  question,  for  I  am 
a  plain  man,  and  I  like  to  come  straight  to  the  point. 

Aubrey.    Well,  sir? 

Freeland.  I  hear  that  you  have  a  run  on  your  bank ;  is 
that  so  ? 

Aubrey.  I  see  the  drift  of  your  question.  If  you  have 
any  money  in  the  bank,  present  your  account  to  the 
cashier,  and  he  will  pay  you  at  once. 

Freeland.    I  have  n't  a  penny  in  your  hands. 

Aubrey.    Then  may  I  ask  what  is  your  business  with  me  ? 

Freeland.  I  wish  to  know  if  a  small  sum  will  aid  you  at 
this  crisis. 

Aubrey.    Why  ask  that  question  ? 

Freeland.  Because  if  it  would,  I  should  be  glad  to  pay 
in  a  deposit. 


212  THE  FOURTH  READBIU 

Aubrey.    Sir ! 

Freeland.  You  are  no  doubt  surprised  that,  when  those 
who  know  you  are  hastening  to  drain  your  vaults,  a  stranger 
should  come  to  pay  money  in. 

Aubrey.    I  confess  it  is  unusual. 

Freeland.  Let  me  explain  myself.  Do  you  remember 
when,  some  twenty  years  ago,  you  lived  in  Essex  ? 

Aubrey.     Perfectly. 

Freeland.  And  perhaps  you  recollect  the  turnpike-gate 
you  used  to  pass  every  day  ? 

Aubrey.     Certainly,  I  do. 

Freeland.    My  father  kept  that  gate. 

Aubrey.    Ah,  I  remember  him ! 

Freeland.  And  do  you  remember  one  Christmas  morn- 
ing, when  the  gate-keeper  was  sick,  and  a  little  boy  opened 
the  gate  for  you  ? 

Aubrey.     I  have  forgotten  the  circumstance. 

Freeland.  Very  likely.  But  I  have  not.  I  was  that  little 
boy.  As  you  passed,  I  called  out,  "A  merry  Christmas, 
sir ! "  You  rephed,  "  Thank  you,  my  lad ;  the  same  to  you, 
and  here 's  a  trifle  to  make  it  so."  And  you  threw  me  a 
seven-shilling  piece. 

Aubrey  {smiling).  Well,  I  trust  you  had  a  merry  Christ- 
mas ! 

Freeland.  It  was  the  first  money  I  ever  had  in  my  life ; 
and  that,  and  the  kind  smile  you  gave  me  with  it,  made 
me  the  happiest  boy  in  the  world  that  day.  Well,  sir — to 
cut  a  long  story  short — ^that  seven-shilling  piece  brought 
me  good  luck ;  it  was  the  beginning  of — well,  sir — a  tole- 
rably large  fortune  for  a  plain  man  like  me.  I  have  kept 
sight  of  you,  though  I  dare  say  you  never  gave  me  a  second 
thought.  I  got  into  trade,  first  in  a  small  way,  then  in  a 
large  way, — and,  sir,  I  consider  that  I  owe  all  I  have  to 
you. 

Aubrey.  You  owe  it  rather  to  your  own  thrift  and  in- 
dustry.    And  I  heartily  congratulate  you ! 

Freeland.    Thank  you !     But  excuse  me  for  insisting — J 


THE   MONEY   PANIC. 


213 


owe  all  to  you.  Hearing  yesterday  that  there  was  a  run 
on  your  bank,  I  hastily  scraped  together  what  I  could— 
a  small  sum— which  is  at  your  service,  if  it  will  be  of  any 
use  to  you.     Here  it  is,  sir 

IPuts  a  roll  of  bank-notes  into  Aubrey^s  hand. 


Aubrey.     But,  my  dear  sir ! 

Freeland.  A  small  sum,  a  small  sum,  sir.  You  '11  really 
oblige  me  by  keeping  it  for  me  a  few  days.  Pardon  me 
for  taking  so  much  of  your  time.  I  '11  call  again.  Good- 
day,  sir !  [Goes  out. 

Aubrey  (turns  over  the  bank-notes).  Twenty  thousand 
pounds  I    Thank  Heaven,  the  bank  is  saved  I 


214  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

QIY—THE  THREE  BELLS. 

Captain  Leighton,  of  the  English  ship  "  Three  Bells,"  some  years  ago 
rescued  the  crew  of  an  American  vessel  sinking  in  mid-ocean.  Unable 
to  take  them  off  in  the  storm  and  darkness,  he  kept  by  them  till  morn- 
ing, running  down  often  during  the  night,  as  near  to  them  as  he  dared, 
and  shouting  to  them  through  his  trumpet,  "Never  fear!  Hold  on! 
r  11  stand  by  you !" 

I. 

BENEATH  the  low-hung  night  cloud 
That  raked  her  splintering  mast 
The  good  ship  settled  slowly. 
The  cruel  leak  gained  fast. 

n. 
Over  the  awful  ocean 

Her  signal  guns  pealed  out. 
Dear  God!  was  that  thy  answer 

From  the  horror  round  about? 

III. 
A  voice  came  down  the  wild  wind, 

"Ho!  ship  ahoy!"  its  cry: 
"Our  stout  Three  Bells  of  Glasgow 

Shall  stand  till  daylight  by ! " 

IV. 

Hour  after  hour  crept  slowly, 

Yet  on  the  heaving  swells 
Tossed  up  and  down  the  ship-lights, 

The  lights  of  the  Three  Bells. 

V. 

And  ship  to  ship  made  signals, 

Man  answered  back  to  man, 
While  oft,  to  cheer  and  hearten, 

The  Three  Bells  nearer  ran; 

VI. 

And  the  captain  from  her  taffrail 

Sent  down  his  hopeful  cry. 
"Take  heart!    Hold  on!"  he  shouted; 

"The  Three  Bells  shall  stand  by!" 


PICKEREL-FISHING.  215 

vn. 

All  night  across  the  waters 

The  tossing  lights  shone  clear; 
All  night  from  reeling  taffrail 

The  Three  Bells  sent  her  cheer. 

VIII. 

And  when  the  dreary  watches 

Of  storm  and  darkness  passed, 
Just  as  the  wreck  lurched  under, 

All  souls  were  saved  at  last. 

IX. 

Sail  on,  Three  Bells,  forever. 

In  grateful  memory  sail! 
Ring  on,  Three  Bells  of  rescue. 

Above  the  wave  and  gale! 


As  thine,  in  night  and  tempest. 

I  hear  the  Master's  cry. 

And,  tossing  through  the  darkness. 

The  lights  of  God  draw  nigh. 

J.  G.  Whittier. 


QY.—PICKEBEL-FlSHIMG, 

THE  pickerel  is  a  fish  of  prey,  so  to  speak.  He  lives 
by  devouring  the  small  fishes  that  inhabit  the  same 
pond  with  him.  If  he  cannot  get  small  fishes,  frogs  will 
do,  or  any  other  small  animals  that  live  in  ponds  of  water. 

2.  What  the  hawk  is  among  the  birds  of  the  air,  and  the 
tiger  among  the  beasts  of  the  field,  and  the  shark  among 
the  fishes  of  the  sea,  the  pike  and  the  pickerel  are  to  the 
frogs  and  minnows  of  the  fresh-water  ponds. 

3.  The  pickerel  lies  in  wait  for  his  prey  with  as  much 
patience  and  cunning,  seemingly,  as  a  cat  watching  at  the 
hole  of  a  mouse.     He  likes  ponds  and  little  lakes  where 


216  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

trees  hang  over  the  banks,  and  plants  grow  in  the  margin 
of  the  water,  and  rocks,  lining  the  shores,  form  dark  and 
secluded  places  of  retreat  below  for  him  to  lurk  in  while 
waiting  for  his  prey. 

4.  In  these  secluded  retreats  the  fish  remains  perfectly 
motionless  until  his  prey  gets  near  enough  to  him,  and 
then  he  darts  at  it  with  a  suddenness  and  a  swiftness  that 
is  perfectly  astonishing,  and  seizes  and  swallows  it  in  a 
moment. 

5.  At  one  time  I  was  walking  along  the  bank  of  a  river 
with  some  boys,  when  suddenly  one  of  them,  a  boy  named 
Walter,  looking  down  into  the  water,  called  out,  "  Ah ! 
here 's  a  pickerel ! " 

6.  We  all  went  to  the  place,  and  there  we  saw,  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  shore,  down  near  the  side  of  a  stone  that 
was  lying  there  on  the  bottom  of  the  river,  a  fish  about  a 
foot  long,  and  of  a  dark  but  beautiful  mottled  color.  He 
was  of  a  slender  form ;  his  nose  was  long  and  pointed,  and 
his  sides  sloped  away  to  his  tail  in  the  most  elegant  and 
graceful  manner.     In  fact,  he  was  clipper-built  altogether. 

7.  The  boys  hastened  to  the  bank  at  Walter's  call,  and 
began  to  look  down  eagerly  into  the  river.  Some  said, 
"Where  is  he?"  Some  said,  "Oh,  I  see  him!"  Others 
said,  "  Hush !  don't  speak  a  word."  In  fact,  the  boys  all 
talked  together,  uttering  these  and  many  similar  exclama- 
tions, and  pointing  with  their  fingers  down  into  the  water. 

8.  The  pickerel  took  no  notice  of  these  things,  but  re- 
mained unmoved — as  motionless  as  if  he  had  been  a  pickerel 
of  stone.  In  fact,  if  he  had  looked  up,  I  do  not  suppose 
that  he  could  have  seen  the  boys  on  the  bank  at  all ;  at 
least,  he  could  not  have  seen  them  if  he  had  been  a  boy. 
It  is  a  singular  fact  that  though,  when  a  boy  is  up  on  the 
land,  he  can  see  quite  plainly  what  is  down  in  the  water, 
yet  when  he  is  down  in  the  water  he  cannot  see  at  all  what 
is  up  on  the  land. 

9.  If,  the  next  time  you  go  into  a  pond  or  a  river  to 
bathe,  you  dive  to  the  bottom  and  then  turn  your  head  so 


PICKEREL-FISHING.  217 

as  to  look  up,  you  will  see  nothing  but  a  round  bright  spot 
where  the  light  shines  down  into  the  water,  but  you  cannot 
see  anything  above  it  distinctly.  It  must  be  admitted, 
however,  that  the  case  may  be  different  with  the  eyes  of  a 
pickerel. 

10.  The  boys  who  stood  on  the  bank  looking  at  the 
pickerel  that  I  am  now  describing  immediately  began  to 
lay  plans  for  catching  him.  They  found,  on  inquiring,  and 
feeling  in  all  their  pockets,  that  no  one  of  the  party  had  a 
fishing-line,  and  as  they  all  thought  there  would  be  no 
time  to  go  and  get  one,  they  attempted  to  make  one  out  of 
a  piece  of  twine  and  a  pin. 

11.  They  bent  the  pin  into  the  form  of  a  hook,  and 
fastened  it  on  to  the  end  of  the  twine.  They  found  a  small 
stone,  shaped  like  a  long  and  slender  bean,  which  they  tied 
on  for  a  sinker,  and  for  bait  they  took  a  strip  of  white  rag. 
They  thought  that  this  would  look  more  like  a  fish  than 
anything  else  they  could  obtain.  They  also  cut  an  elder- 
bush  that  grew  near  by,  and,  trimming  off  the  branches, 
they  made  a  fishing-pole  of  it. 

12.  All  these  preparations  were  made  very  quickly,  for 
while  one  boy  was  doing  one  thing,  the  others  were  doing 
others,  and  so  the  work  was  accomplished. 

13.  When  all  was  ready,  Walter  took  the  pole  and  began 
to  let  the  hook  down  into  the  water.  He  claimed  it  as 
his  privilege  to  try  to  catch  the  fish,  as  he  had  discovered 
him.  Another  boy  also  claimed  it,  in  virtue  of  his  having 
furnished  the  twine  that  the  line  was  made  of,  and  also 
the  pin.  But  it  was  finally  concluded  to  let  Walter  try 
first. 

14.  So  Walter  lowered  the  line,  with  the  sinker  and  rag 
at  the  end  of  it,  slowly  down  into  the  water,  not  far  from 
the  place  where  the  pickerel  was  lying.  The  pickerel  took 
no  notice,  apparently,  of  this,  but  remained  motionless. 

15.  The  boys  all  stood  together  on  the  bank,  silent,  or 
speaking  only  in  whispers,  and  watching  every  movement 
with   breathless   interest.     Walter,  by  moving  the  pole, 


218  THE   FOUETH   READER. 

gradually  brought  the  rag  nearer  to  the  fish.     Presently 
the  boys  saw  that  the  fish  began  to  move. 

16.  "  There !  there ! "  they  exclaimed  in  eager  whispers. 
"  Hold  still,  Walter !    He  is  moving.    Hold  perfectly  still ! " 

Walter  said  nothing,  but  held  the  pole  perfectly  still. 

17.  The  fish  was  soon  seen  to  be  turning  himself  gradually 
round,  so  as  to  get  a  better  view  of  his  supposed  prey.  The 
movement  was  extremely  slow — you  can  scarcely  conceive 
how  slow.  You  see  the  rag  was  a  little  on  one  side  of  him, 
and  he,  supposing  that  it  was  a  small  fish,  was  turning  so 
as  to  get  a  better  chance  to  dart  at  it  without  frightening  it 
away. 

18.  The  pickerel  moved  slowly  round  in  this  way,  until 
he  was  aimed  directly  towards  the  bait. 

"Pull  it  along  a  little  through  the  water,  Wally,"  said 
one  of  the  boys,  in  a  whisper ;  "just  the  least  mite,  to  make 
him  think  it  is  a  live  fish  swimming  away." 

"  Yes,"  said  another  boy. 

19.  So  Walter  began  to  move  the  top  of  the  pole  a  little, 
and  the  movement  which  he  thus  made  was  communicated 
through  the  line  to  the  rag.  The  instant,  however,  that  the 
rag  began  to  stir — whisk !  like  a  flash  the  pickerel  darted 
at  the  prey,  just  touched  it  with  his  nose,  and  then,  turn- 
ing a  sharp  angle,  he  shot  off  through  the  water  as  swift  as 
an  arrow,  out  into  the  middle  of  the  river,  and  disappeared. 

20.  The  movement  of  the  pickerel  when  he  came  to  take 
the  spring  was  so  instantaneous  that  the  smaller  boys  on 
the  bank  could  not  follow  it.  It  seemed  to  them  that  the 
fish  did  not  go  away  anywhere,  but  that  he  suddenly 
vanished  where  he  was.  Those  that  had  followed  his 
motions  looked  off  into  the  dark  obscurities  of  the  water 
towards  the  middle  of  the  river  with  an  expression  of  great 
disappointment  in  their  faces. 

21.  "  He 's  gone,"  said  Walter. 

"  Like  a  flash,"  said  another  boy. 

"  He  knew  it  was  nothing  but  a  rag,"  said  a  third,  "just 
as  quick  as  he  touched  it." 


PICKEREL-FISHING.  219 

22.  During  all  this  time  I  had  been  seated  quietly  on  the 
bank,  looking  on.  I  watched  the  proceedings  with  con- 
siderable interest,  though  I  took  no  active  part  in  them. 
When  it  was  ascertained  that  the  pickerel  was  really  gone, 
I  rose,  and  we  all  then  went  on  together,  continuing  our 
walk  on  the  bank  of  the  stream. 

23.  I  went  as  usual,  walking  quietly  along  the  path 
which  formed  the  margin  of  the  meadow  towards  the  river. 
The  boys,  however,  all  walked  sideways,  keeping  their  eyes 
fixed  on  the  water,  and  exploring  the  depths  of  it  very  care- 
fully as  they  advanced,  in  hopes  to  see'  another  fish ;  but 
they  did  not  see  any  more. 

24.  I  have  related  this  incident  for  the  purpose  of  show- 
ing you  exactly  what  sort  of  a  fish  a  pickerel  is.  It  is  not 
always,  however,  that  the  pickerel,  in  attempting  to  seize 
his  prey,  moves  towards  it  at  first  with  a  slow  motion.  If 
the  little  fish  or  the  frog  is  going  rapidly  by,  he  darts  out 
upon  him  at  once,  so  as  to  seize  him  before  he  gets  too  far 
away.  In  consequence  of  this  it  is  that  there  are  two  ways 
of  managing  the  bait  in  fishing  for  this  kind  of  fish. 

25.  You  may  let  the  bait  down  quietly  into  deep  water, 
and  let  it  remain  there,  still;  and  then,  by  and  by,  a 
pickerel,  coming  along,  will  creep  up,  as  it  were,  very 
slowly  to  it,  until  he  gets  near  enough  to  spring,  and  then 
he  will  dart  forward  and  seize  it.  In  this  case  he  thinks, 
I  suppose,  that  the  fish  is  lying  quietly  in  the  water  to 
rest. 

26.  Or  you  may  drag  your  bait  rapidly  through  the 
water  by  a  succession  of  jerks  and  twitches,  in  order  to 
imitate  the  movement  of  a  fish .  swimming  along.  The 
pickerel  will  then  dart  at  it,  seize  it  with  great  fury,  and 
attempt  to  swim  away  with  it  as  fast  as  he  can  go.  Then 
all  you  have  to  do  is  to  pull  the  line  in,  and  you  find,  per- 
haps, a  pickerel  eight  inches  or  a  foot  long  on  the  end  of  it. 

Jacob  Abbott. 


220  THE   FOUETH   READEK 

CYL—IJV  S  WAJVA  GE  BA  T. 

(see  frontispiece.) 

I. 

'*  '^T^  WAS  five  and  forty  years  ago, 

-L    Just  such  another  morn, 
The  fishermen  were  on  the  beach, 

The  reapers  in  the  corn; 
My  tale  is  true,  young  gentlemen, 
As  sure  as  you  were  born. 

n. 
"  My  tale 's  all  true,  young  gentlemen/' 

The  fond  old  boatman  cried 
Unto  the  sullen,  angry  lads. 

Who  vain  obedience  tried; 
"Mind  what  your  father  says  to  you 

And  don't  go  out  this  tide. 

ni. 
"Just  such  a  shiny  sea  as  this. 

Smooth  as  a  pond,  you  'd  say, 
And  white  gulls  flying,  and  the  crafts 

Down  channel  making  way; 
And  Isle  of  Wight,  all  glittering  brightj 

Seen  clear  from  Swanage  Bay. 

IV. 

"The  Battery  point,  the  Race  beyond, 

Just  as  to-day  you  see; 
And  here  upon  this  very  stone 

Sat  Dick  and  Dolly  with  me ; 
She  was  our  little  sister,  sirs, 

A  small  child,  just  turned  three. 

V. 

And  Dick  was  very  fond  of  her ; 

Though  a  big  lad  and  bold, 
He'd  carry  her  like  any  nurse, 

Almost  from  birth,  I'm  told ; 
For  mother  sickened  soon,  and  died, 

When  Dolly  was  eight  months  old. 


IN  SWANAGE   BAY. 

VI. 
"We  sat  and  watched  a  little  boat, 

Her  name  the  'Tricksy  Jane/ 
A  queer  old  tub  laid  up  ashore, 

But  we  could  see  her  plain; 
To  see  her  and  not  haul  her  up 

Cost  us  a  deal  of  pain. 

vn. 
"Said  Dick  to  me,  'Let's  have  a  pull, 

Father  will  never  know; 
He's  busy  in  his  wheat  up  there. 

And  cannot  see  us  go: 
These  landsmen  are  such  cowards,  if 

A  puff  of  wind  does  blow. 

vrn. 
"I've  been  to  France  and  back  three  times- 

Who  knows  best,  I  or  he, 
Whether  a  craft's  seaworthy  or  not? — 

'Dolly,  wilt  go  to  sea?' 
And  Dolly  laughed,  and  hugged  him  tight, 

As  pleased  as  she  could  be. 

rx. 

"I  don't  mean,  sirs,  to  blame  poor  Dick* 

What  he  did,  sure  I  'd  do : 
And  many  a  sail  in  'Tricksy  Jane' 

We'd  had  when  she  was  new. 
Father  was  always  sharp;  and  what 

He  said,  he  meant  it  too. 

X. 

"But  now  the  sky  had  not  a  cloud. 
The  bay  looked  smooth  as  glass; 

Our  Dick  could  manage  any  boat, 
As  neat  as  ever  was; 

And  Dolly  crowed,  'Me  go  to  sea!' 
The  jolly  little  lass! 


22j 


222  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

XI. 
"  Well,  sirs,  we  went ;  a  pair  of  oars, 

My  jacket  for  a  sail ; 
Just  round  'Old  Harry  and  his  Wife' — 

Those  rocks  there,  within  hail — 
And  we  came  back. — D'ye  want  to  hear 

The  end  o'  the  old  man's  tale? 


XII. 

"  Ay,  ay,  we  came  back,  past  that  point, 

But  then  a  breeze  upsprung; 
Dick  shouted,  'Hoy!  down  sail!'  and  pulled 

With  all  his  might  among 
The  white  sea-horses  that  upreared 

So  terrible  and  strong. 


xni. 
"I  pulled  too;  I  was  blind  with  fear — 

But  I  could  hear  Dick's  breath 
Coming  and  going,  as  he  told 

Dolly  to  creep  beneath 
His  jacket,  and  not  hold  him  so : 

We  rowed  for  life  or  death. 


XIV. 

"We  almost  reached  the  sheltered  bay, 

We  could  see  father  stand 
Upon  the  little  jetty  here. 

His  sickle  in  his  hand — 
The  houses  white,  the  yellow  fields, 

The  safe  and  pleasant  land. 


XV. 

"  And  Dick,  though  pale  as  any  ghost, 

Had  only  said  to  me, 
'  We  're  all  right  now,  old  lad ! '  when  up 

A  wave  rolled — drenched  us  three — 
One  lurch — and  then  I  felt  the  chill 

And  roar  of  blinding  se&. 


IN  swanage  bay.  223 

XVI. 

"I  don't  remember  much  but  that — 

You  see  I  'm  safe  and  sound ; 
I  have  been  wrecked  four  times  since  then, 

Seen  queer  sights,  I  '11  be  bound : 
I  think  folks  sleep  beneath  the  deep, 

As  calm  as  under  ground." 

xvn. 
"But  Dick  and  Dolly?"    "Well,  poor  Dick! 

I  saw  him  rise  and  cling 
Unto  the  gunwale  of  the  boat — 

Floating  keel  up — and  sing 
Out  loud,  'Where's  Dolly?' — I  hear  him  yet, 

As  clear  as  anything. 

XVIII. 

"'Where's  Dolly?'    I  no  answer  made; 

For  she  dropped  like  a  stone 
Down  through  the  deep  sea — and  it  closed; 

The  little  thing  was  gone. 
'Where's  Dolly?'  three  times — then  Dick  loosed  hold, 

And  left  me  there  alone. 


XIX. 

"It's  five  and  forty  year  since  then," 
Muttered  the  boatman  gray, 

And  drew  his  rough  hand  o'er  his  eyes, 
And  stared  across  the  bay; 

"Just  five  and  forty  year!"  and  not 
Another  word  did  say. 

XX. 

"But  Dolly?"  ask  the  children  all, 
As  they  about  him  stand; — 

"Poor  Dolly  floated  back  next  tide 
With  seaweed  in  her  hand. 

She's  buried  o'er  that  hill  you  see 
In  a  churchyard  on  land. 


224  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

XXI. 
"  But  where  Dick  lies,  God  knows !    He  '11  find 

Our  Dick  at  judgment  day." 
The  boatman  fell  to  mending  nets, 

The  boys  ran  off  to  play; 
And  the  sun  shone  and  the  waves  danced 
In  quiet  Swanage  Bay. 

D.  M.  MuLOCK 


CVII.— 6^JV  THE  MEXICAN  WAR. 

FROM  A  SPEECH   DELIVERED  IN  THE  U.  S.   SENATE,  FEBRUARY,   1847. 

WE  have  already  ample  territory  in  our  hands,  and 
more  than  sufficient  to  effect  all  the  objects  of  the 
war.  If,  then,  it  is  for  neither  one  nor  the  other  of  these 
objects,  I  ask  why  shall  offensive  operations  be  carried  on  ? 
There  is  but  one  answer  to  that :  it  is  to  obtain  peace ;  or, 
to  use  the  language  most  commonly  employed — to  conquer 
peace.  How  is  peace  to  be  obtained  or  peace  to  be  con- 
quered ?  It  can  only  be  by  treaty.  War  may  be  made  by 
one  nation — peace  is  always  made  by  two. 

2.  The  object,  then,  is  to  get  a  treaty.  What  kind  of  a 
treaty  ?  A  treaty  that  will  suit  Mexico  ?  You  can  get  that 
at  any  time.  No!  You  want  a  treaty  to  suit  us.  And 
what  is  that?  Why,  sir,  a  treaty  that  we  shall  dictate, 
compel  Mexico  to  sign,  and  which  shall  secure  to  us  the 
ends  for  which  this  war  was  declared. 
.  3.  And  what  were  these  ends  ?  I  have  already  enumerated 
them.  The  establishment  of  the  Del  Norte  as  the  boundary, 
and  ample  acquisition  for  indemnity.  The  whole  object  of 
the  war,  then,  is  this — to  compel  Mexico  to  acknowledge  that 
to  be  ours  which  we  already  hold  in  possession,  and  which 
we  can  hold,  despite  of  her,  with  almost  no  sacrifice. 

4.  That  is  it,  twist  it  and  turn  it  as  you  please;  neither 
more  nor  less  can  be  made  of  it — that  is  the  whole  object 
of  what  they  call  a  vigorous  war  of  offense.  I  repeat  it. 
It  is  to  compel  Mexico  to  acknowledge  that  to  be  ours 
which  we  now  hold,  and  hold  in  spite  of  her.yL» 


ON   THE   MEXICAN   WAR.  226 

5.  Now,  in  this  aspect  of  the  question,  I  put  it  home  to 
the  Senate — is  it  worth  while  to  pursue  a  war  of  that  de- 
scription vigorously?  Suppose  it  a  matter  of  perfect  cer- 
tainty that  you  could  reach  the  city  of  Mexico  this  very 
campaign,  and  beat  them  into  a  treaty  of  peace  in  the  city 
of  Mexico,  what  would  be  your  sacrifice  ? 

6.  The  army  you  propose  to  raise  is  seventy  thousand 
men ;  the  expense,  thirty  millions  of  dollars — much  more 
likely  thirty  or  forty  millions.  Suppose  you  have  fifty 
thousand  men  in  the  field;  suppose  the  campaign  is  as 
successful  as  possible — what  is  the  state  of  things  at  its 
close?  You  have  sacrificed,  in  the  first  place,  thirty  mil- 
lions of  dollars  to  get  possession  of  the  city  of  Mexico,  in 
which  to  dictate  this  peace,  and  you  have  lost  how  many 
lives  of  our  people  ? 

7.  Sir,  based  upon  the  calculation  of  the  last  campaign, 
which  was  comparatively  in  a  healthy  country,  one-third 
is  to  be  put  down  as  falling  by  the  sword,  or,  worse  than 
the  sword,  the  pestilence  of  the  country.  Something  like 
sixteen  thousand  men  are  to  be  set  down  as  sacrificed  in 
this  campaign.  I  put  it  home  to  Senators  now — is  it  worth 
while  to  sacrifice  even  thirty  millions  of  dollars,  or  fifteen 
thousand  men,  for  the  purpose  of  getting  Mexico  to  ac- 
knowledge that  to  be  ours  which  is  already  ours  ? 

8.  T  put  a  graver  question,  and  I  appeal  to  the  conscience 
of  every  man  here — can  we,  with  any  regard  to  the  opinions 
and  judgment  of  a  Christian  people,  pursue  that  war  which 
must  end  in  such  a  result?  Is  there  any  man  here  who 
will  give  the  lives  of  sixteen  thousand  of  our  people,  or 
thirty  millions  of  dollars  ?  No,  sir !  there  is  not  one ;  and 
yet  we  propose  to  pursue  a  war  which,  if  it  terminate  in 
one  campaign,  will  produce  that  result,  in  all  probability. 

9.  I  hold  this  war  to  have  been,  in  the  first  instance,  a 

great  departure  from  the  true  line  of  policy  which,  as  I 

have  again  and  again  said,  is  peace.     It  is  ours  to  grow, 

and  not  to  add  by  conquest. 

John  C.  Calhoun. 

4  16 


226 


THE   FOURTH   READER. 


CYlIL—^rUJVIJVG  AT  THE  FARM. 


OVER  the  hill  the  farm-boy  goes, 
His  shadow  lengthens  along  the  land, 
A  giant  staff  in  a  giant  hand; 
In  the  poplar  tree,  above  the  spring, 
The  katy-did  begins  to  sing; 

The  early  dews  are  falling; — 
Into  the  stone-heap  darts  the  mink; 
The  swallows  skim  the  river's  brink; 
And  home  to  the  woodland  fly  the  crows, 
When  over  the  hill  the  farm-boy  goes, 
Cheerily  calling, 
"  Co',  boss !  CO',  boss !  co' !  co' !  co' ! " 


EVENING   AT  THE   FARM.  227 

Farther,  farther,  over  the  hill, 
Faintly  calHng,  caUing  still, 

"  Co',  boss !  co',  boss !  co' !  co' ! " 

n. 

Now  to  her  task  the  milkmaid  goes. 

The  cattle  come  crowding  through  the  gate, 

Lowing,  pushing,  little  and  great ; 

About  the  trough,  by  the  farm-yard  pump, 

The  frolicsome  yearlings  frisk  and  jump. 

While  the  pleasant  dews  are  falling; — 
The  new  milch  heifer  is  quick  and  shy. 
But  the  old  cow  waits  with  tranquil  eye. 
And  the  white  stream  into  the  bright  pail  flows. 
When  to  her  task  the  milkmaid  goes, 

Soothingly  calling, 

"  So,  boss !  so,  boss !  so !  so !  so ! " 

The  cheerful  milkmaid  takes  her  stool, 

And  sits  and  milks  in  the  twilight  cool. 

Saying,  "  So !  so,  boss !  so !  so ! " 

in. 

To  supper  at  last  the  farmer  goes. 
The  apples  are  pared,  the  paper  read. 
The  stories  are  told,  then  all  to  bed. 
Without,  the  crickets'  ceaseless  song 
Makes  shrill  the  silence  all  night  long; 

The  heavy  dews  are  falling. 
The  housewife's  hand  has  turned  the  lock; 
Drowsily  ticks  the  kitchen  clock; 
The  household  sinks  to  deep  repose. 
But  still  in  sleep  the  farm-boy  goes. 
Singing,  calling, 

"Co',  boss!  co',  boss!  co'!  co'!  co'!" 
And  oft  the  milkmaid,  in  her  dreams. 
Drums  in  the  pail  with  the  flashing  streams, 

Murmuring,  "  So,  boss !  so ! " 

J.  T.  Trowbridgb. 


228  THE   FOURTH   READER. 


QIH.— COMPOSITION^, 


THE  skill  to  write  a  good  letter  is  one  of  the  most  useful 
accomplishments  any  person  can  possess;  and  if  a 
little  study  of  the  art  of  composition  led  any  particular  boy 
or  girl  to  nothing  more  in  the  world  than  the  power  to 
write  common  letters  of  business  or  friendship  very  well 
indeed,  all  the  trouble  of  the  study  would  have  been  well 
paid  for. 

2.  But,  besides  this,  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  tell 
what  duties  or  difl&culties  may  be  in  store  for  him,  or  how 
glad  he  may  some  day  be  to  be  able  to  express  himself 
skilfully  and  powerfully  for  a  particular  purpose.  In  our 
dealings  with  our  friends  and  relatives,  it  is  often  of  the 
very  utmost  consequence  to  be  able  to  express  our  meaning 
powerfully  as  well  as  correctly. 

3.  Nothing  can  be  more  correct,  as  far  as  it  goes,  than  a 
Chinese  picture.  But  see  how  immensely  it  gains  when 
you  add  perspective  to  it !  Now  it  is  really  a  part  of  Truth- 
fulness to  show  our  friends  the  perspective,  the  light  and 
shade  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings,  as  well  as  the  outline 
of  them.  And  how  many  parents,  at  this  hour,  would 
gladly  pay  a  high  price,  if  money  could  buy  it,  for  the  skill 
to  explain  things  better  to  their  children ! 

4.  This  point  I  very  specially  beg  young  readers  to 
notice.  In  learning  how  to  arrange  their  thoughts  and 
words,  they  will,  in  fact,  be  getting  up  a  sort  of  second 
memory,  and  doubling,  or  much  more  than  doubling,  their 
power  of  learning  things.  A  great  deal  of  the  process  by 
which  those  people  learn  things  who  seem  to  suck  in  know- 
ledge as  a  sponge  does  water,  is  really  a  kind  of  seeing  into 
the  uses  to  which  other  well-taught  people  put  the  art  of 
Composition. 

5.  Let  us  add  that  the  study  of  Composition  tends  greatly 
to  strengthen  the  memory  of  words.  Now,  some  people 
are  very  fond  of  running  down  the  memory  of  words ;  but 
it  is  most  unwise  of  them.    For,  as  all  knowledge  can  be 


COMPOSITION.  229 

put  into  words,  to  remember  words  may  be  to  know  every- 
thing— supi^osing  the  meaning  of  the  words  to  be  known. 

6.  There  is  one  very  important  way  in  which  a  good  and 
cultivated  memory  of  words  may  help  you ;  it  enables  you 
to  carry  away,  in  the  words,  things  which  you  do  not  at  the 
time  understand,  as  well  as  those  which  you  do.  And  then 
you  can  clear  up  the  difficulty  at  another  time,  because 
you  remember  exactly  what  was  said  or  written. 

7.  I  will  tell  3^ou  a  story  which  I  read  when  I  was  a 
child.  The  tale  itself  is  one  that  you  might  find  in  a 
dozen  places,  and  may  be  what  is  called  "  classical,"  for 
anything  I  know. 

8.  It  was  just  as  I  was  getting  better  of  an  illness,  and  the 
story  made  me  laugh  so  loud  that  my  mother  came  tearing 
up-stairs  to  my  bedside  to  see  what  was  the  matter ;  all  I 
could  do,  laughing  still,  being  to  point  to  the  passage  in  the 
open  book. 

9.  It  does  not  make  me  laugh  now,  because  my  mind  has 
got  accustomed  to  the  absurdities  of  the  mayor ;  but  it  is  a 
good  lesson  in  composition.  The  words  of  it  have  long  ago 
passed  from  me,  but  here  are  the  incidents. 

10.  The  town  of  Falaise  was  dangerously  dark  at  night. 
The  mayor  issued  an  edict  that  every  citizen  should  every 
evening  hang  outside  of  his  door  a  lantern.  The  edict  was 
obeyed ;  but  the  streets  were  no  lighter. 

11.  Then  the  mayor  of  Falaise  bethought  him,  and  in  a 
great  rage  issued  another  edict,  commanding  every  citizen 
to  hang  out  at  his  door  every  evening  a  lantern  with  a 
candle  in  it.  This  edict  was  also  obeyed,  but  the  streets 
of  Falaise  were  no  lighter  for  it. 

12.  And  now  the  mayor,  in  a  still  greater  rage,  issued  a 
third  edict,  commanding  every  citizen  to  hang  out  of  his 
door  each  night  a  lantern  with  a  lighted  candle  in  it.  And 
there  was  light  after  sundown  in  the  streets  of  Falaise. 

13.  But  even  the  third  edict  was  not  complete,  though  it 
is  as  far  as  the  story  went — for  the  citizens  might  have  hung 
out  the  luminous  lanterns,  and  then  taken  them  in  again 


230  THE  FOURTH  READER. 

directly.    So  that  the  edict  ought  to  have  told  them  to  keep 
their  lanterns  alight  all  through  the  dark. 

14.  However,  it  is  clear  that  the  mayor  of  Falaise  had 
never  learnt  the  art  of  expressing  his  meaning.  May  his 
melancholy  failures  be  a  lesson  to  you  and  me ! 

Matthew  Beowne. 


ex.— WAT  TYLER'S  ADDRESS  TO  THE  KIKG. 

I. 

KING  of  England, 
Petitioning  for  pity  is  most  weak — 
The  sovereign  people  ought  to  demand  justice. 
I  lead  them  here  against  the  Lord's  anointed, 
Because  his  ministers  have  made  him  odious! 
His  yoke  is  heavy,  and  his  burden  grievous. 

n. 

Why  do  ye  carry  on  this  fatal  war, 
To  force  upon  the  French  a  king  they  hate; 
Tearing  our  young  men  from  their  peaceful  homes, 
Forcing  his  hard-earned  fruits  from  the  honest  peasant. 
Distressing  us  to  desolate  our  neighbors? 

m. 
Why  is  this  ruinous  poll-tax  imposed. 
But  to  support  your  court's  extravagance, 
And  your  mad  title  to  the  crown  of  France? 
Shall  we  sit  tamely  down  beneath  these  evils. 
Petitioning  for  pity?    King  of  England, 
Why  are  we  sold  like  cattle  in  your  markets, 
Deprived  of  every  privilege  of  man? 
Must  we  lie  tamely  at  our  tyrant's  feet, 
And,  like  your  spaniels,  lick  the  hand  that  beats  us? 

IV. 

You  sit  at  ease  in  your  gay  palaces: 
The  costly  banquet  courts  your  appetite; 
Sweet  music  soothes  your  slumbers :  we,  the  while, 
Scarce  by  hard  toil  can  earn  a  little  food, 


THANKSGIVING  DINNER    AT   PLUM  FIELD.  231 

And  sleep  scarce  sheltered  from  the  cold  night-wind, 
Whilst  your  wild  projects  wrest  the  little  from  us 
Which  might  have  cheered  the  wintry  hours  of  age! 

V. 

The  Parliament  forever  asks  more  money; 
We  toil  and  sweat  for  money  for  your  taxes; 
Where  is  the  benefit — what  good  reap  we 
From  all  the  counsels  of  your  government? 
Think  you  that  we  should  quarrel  with  the  French? 
What  boots  to  us  your  victories,  your  glory? 
We  pay,  we  fight — you  profit  at  your  ease. 

VI. 

Do  you  not  claim  the  country  as  your  own? 

Do  you  not  call  the  venison  of  the  forest. 

The  birds  of  heaven,  your  own? — prohibiting  us, 

Even  though  in  want  of  food,  to  seize  the  prey 

Which  Nature  offers?    King!  is  all  this  just? 

Think  you  we  do  not  feel  the  wrongs  we  suff"er? 

The  hour  of  retribution  is  at  hand, 

Ajid  tyrants  tremble — mark  me,  King  of  England ! 

Thomas  Campbell. 


QXi.—THAJfKSGIVIJ^G  BIKMER  AT 
PLUMFIELD. 

THANKSGIVING  was  always  kept  at  Plumfield  Home 
School  in  the  good  old-fashioned  way,  and  nothing 
was  allowed  to  interfere  with  it.  For  days  beforehand  the 
little  girls  helped  Asia  and  Mrs.  Jo  in  storeroom  and 
kitchen,  making  pies  and  puddings,  sorting  fruit,  dusting 
dishes,  and  being  very  busy  and  immensely  important. 
The  boys  hovered  on  the  outskirts  of  the  forbidden  ground, 
sniffing  the  savory  odors,  peeping  in  at  the  mysterious  per- 
formances, and  occasionally  being  permitted  to  taste  some 
delicacy  in  the  process  of  preparation. 

2.  When  at  last  the  day  came,  the  boys  went  off  for  a 
long  walk,  that  they  might  have  good  appetites  for  dinner ; 


232  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

as  if  they  ever  needed  them !  The  girls  remained  at  home 
to  help  set  the  table,  and  give  last  touches  to  various  affairs 
which  filled  their  busy  little  souls  with  anxiety. 

3.  The  boys  came  trooping  home  with  appetites  that 
would  have  made  the  big  turkey  tremble  if  it  had  not  been 
past  all  fear.  They  retired  to  dress ;  and  for  half  an  hour 
there  was  a  washing,  brushing,  and  prinking  that  would 
have  done  any  tidy  woman's  heart  good  to  see.  When  the 
bell  rang,  a  troop  of  fresh-faced  lads  with  shiny  hair,  clean 
collars,  and  Sunday  jackets  on,  filed  into  the  dining-room, 
where  Mrs.  Jo  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  "looking 
splendid,"  as  the  boys  said. 

4.  Nearly  every  one  had  contributed  to  the  feast,  so  the 
dinner  was  a  peculiarly  interesting  one  to  the  eaters  of  it, 
who  beguiled  the  pauses  by  remarks  on  their  own  pro- 
ductions. 

5.  "  If  these  are  not  good  potatoes  I  never  saw  any,"  ob- 
served Jack,  as  he  received  his  fourth  big  mealy  one. 

6.  "  Some  of  my  herbs  are  in  the  stuffing  of  the  turkey, 
that 's  why  it 's  so  nice,"  said  Nan,  taking  a  mouthful  with 
intense  satisfaction. 

7.  "My  ducks  are  prime  any  way;  Asia  said  she  never 
cooked  such  fat  ones,"  added  Tommy. 

8.  "  Well,  our  carrots  are  beautiful,  and  our  parsnips  will 
be  ever  so  good  when  we  dig  them,"  put  in  Dick,  and  Dolly 
murmured  his  assent  from  behind  the  bone  he  was  picking. 

9.  "  I  helped  make  the  pies  with  my  pumpkins,"  called 
out  Robby,  with  a  laugh  which  he  stopped  by  retiring  into 
his  mug. 

10.  "  I  picked  some  of  the  apples  that  the  cider  is  made 
of,"  said  Demi. 

11.  "  I  raked  the  cranberries  for  the  sauce,"  cried  Nat. 

12.  "I  got  the  nuts,"  added  Dan;  and  so  it  went  all 
round  the  table. 

13.  "Who  made  up  Thanksgiving?"  asked  Rob;  for 
being  lately  promoted  to  jacket  and  trousers,  he  felt  a  new 
and  manly  interest  in  the  institutions  of  his  country. 


THANKSGIVING   DINNER  AT   PLUMFIELD.  233 

14.  "  See  who  can  answer  that  question ;"  and  Mr.  Baer 
nodded  to  one  or  two  of  his  best  history  boys. 

15.  "  I  know,"  said  Demi ;  "  the  Pilgrims  made  it." 

16.  "What  for?"  asked  Rob,  without  waiting  to  learn 
who  the  Pilgrims  were. 

17.  "  I  forget ;"  and  Demi  subsided. 

18.  •'  I  believe  it  was  because  they  were  not  starved  once, 
and  so,  when  they  had  a  good  harvest,  they  said,  '  We  will 
thank  God  for  it,'  and  they  had  a  day  and  called  it  Thanks- 
giving," said  Dan,  who  liked  the  story  of  the  brave  men 
who  suffered  so  nobly  for  their  faith. 

19.  "  Good !  I  did  n't  think  you  would  remember  any- 
thing but  natural  history;"  and  Mr.  Baer  tapped  gently 
on  the  table  as  applause  for  his  pupil. 

20.  Dan  looked  pleased ;  and  Mrs.  Jo  said  to  her  son, 
"  Now,  do  you  understand  about  it,  Robby  ?  " 

21.  "  No,  I  don't.  I  thought  pil-grims  were  a  sort  of  big 
bird  that  lived  on  rocks,  and  I  saw  pictures  of  them  in 
Demi's  book." 

22.  "  He  means  penguins.  Oh,  is  n't  he  a  little  goosey ! " 
and  Demi  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed  aloud. 

23.  "  Don't  laugh  at  him,  but  tell  him  all  about  it  if  you 
can,"  said  Mrs.  Baer,  consoling  Rob  with  more  cranberry- 
sauce  for  the  general  smile  that  went  round  the  table  at  his 
mistake. 

24.  "  Well,  I  will ;"  and,  after  a  pause  to  collect  his  ideas, 
Demi  delivered  the  following  sketch  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers, 
which  would  have  made  even  those  grave  gentlemen  smile 
if  they  could  have  heard  it. 

25.  "  You  see,  Rob,  some  of  the  people  in  England  did  n't 
like  the  king,  or  something,  so  they  got  into  ships  and  sailed 
away  to  this  country.  It  was  full  of  Indians,  and  bears, 
and  wild  creatures,  and  they  lived  in  forts,  and  had  a 
dreadful  time." 

26.  "The  bears?"  asked  Robby  with  interest. 

27.  "  No ;  the  Pilgrims,  because  the  Indians  troubled  them. 
They  had  n't  enough  to  eat,  and  they  went  to  church  with 


234  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

guns,  and  ever  so  many  died,  and  they  got  out  of  the  ships 
on  a  rock,  and  it's  called  Plymouth  Rock,  and  Aunt  Jo 
saw  it  and  touched  it.  The  Pilgrims  killed  all  the  Indians 
and  got  rich,  and  hung  the  witches,  and  were  very  good ; 
and  some  of  my  greatest-great-grandpas  came  in  the  ships. 
One  was  the  Mayflower;  and  they  made  Thanksgiving, 
and  we  have  it  always,  and  I  like  it.  Some  more  turkey, 
please." 

28.  "I  think  Demi  will  be  a  historian,  there  is  such 
order  and  clearness  in  his  account  of  events;"  and  Uncle 
Fritz's  eyes  laughed  at  Aunt  Jo  as  he  helped  the  descend- 
ant of  the  Pilgrims  to  his  third  bit  of  turkey. 

29.  "I  thought  you  must  eat  as  much  as  ever  you  could 
on  Thanksgiving.  But  Franz  says  you  mustn't  even  then;" 
and  Stuffy  looked  as  if  he  had  received  bad  news. 

30.  "  Franz  is  right ;  so  mind  your  knife  and  fork  and  be 
moderate,  or  else  you  won't  be  able  to  help  in  the  games 
by  and  by,"  said  Mrs.  Jo. 

31.  "  I  '11  be  careful ;  but  everybody  does  eat  lots,  and  I 
like  it  better  than  being  moderate,"  said  Stuffy,  who  leaned 
to  the  popular  belief  that  Thanksgiving  must  be  kept  by 
coming  as  near  apoplexy  as  possible,  and  escaping  with 
merely  a  fit  of  indigestion  or  a  headache. 

32.  "Now,  my  'pilgrims,'  amuse  yourselves  quietly  till 
tea-time,  for  you  will  have  enough  excitement  this  even- 
ing," said  Mrs.  Jo,  as  they  arose  from  the  table  after  a  pro- 
tracted sitting. 

33.  "  I  think  I  will  take  the  whole  flock  for  a  drive,  it  is 

so  pleasant;  then  you  can  rest,  my  dear,  or  you  will  be 

worn  out  this  evening,"  added  Mr.  Baer;  and  as  soon  as 

coats  and  hats  could  be  put  on,  the  great  omnibus  was 

packed  full,  and  away  they  went  for  a  long  gay  drive, 

leaving  Mrs.  Jo  to  rest  and  finish  sundry  small  affairs  in 

peace. 

L.  M.  Alcott. 


LONGING  FOR  HOME.  235 

CX11.—L0JVGIJVG  FOB  HOME. 


A  SONG  of  a  boat:— 
There  was  once  a  boat  on  a  billow: 
Lightly  she  rocked  to  her  port  remote, 
And  the  foam  was  white  in  her  wake  like  snow, 
And  her  frail  mast  bowed  when  the  breeze  wouia  blow, 
And  bent  like  a  wand  of  willow. 


n. 

I  shaded  mine  eyes  one  day  when  a  boat 

Went  curtseying  over  the  billow, 
I  marked  her  course  till  a  dancing  mote 
She  faded  out  on  the  moonlit  foam. 
And  I  stayed  behind  in  the  dear  loved  home; 
And  my  thoughts  all  day  were  about  the  boat 
And  my  dreams  upon  the  pillow. 


m. 

I  pray  you  hear  my  song  of  a  boat, 

For  it  is  but  short: — 
My  boat,  you  shall  find  none  fairer  afloat. 

In  river  or  port. 
Long  I  looked  out  for  the  lad  she  bore, 

On  the  open  desolate  sea, 
And  I  think  he  sailed  to  the  heavenly  shore. 

For  he  came  not  back  to  me — 
Ah  me  1 


IV. 

A  song  of  a  nest: — 
There  was  once  a  nest  in  a  hollow: 
Down  in  the  mosses  and  knot-grass  pressed, 
Soft  and  warm,  and  full  to  the  brim — 
Vetches  leaned  over  it  purple  and  dim. 
With  buttercup  buds  to  follow. 


236  THE  FOURTH   READER. 

V. 
I  pray  you  hear  my  song  of  a  nest, 

For  it  is  not  long: — 
You  shall  never  light,  in  a  summer  quest 

The  bushes  among — 
Shall  never  light  on  a  prouder  sitter, 

A  fairer  nestful,  nor  ever  know 
A  softer  sound  than  their  tender  twitter, 
That  wind-like  did  come  and  go. 

VI. 

I  had  a  nestful  once  of  my  own, 

Ah  happy,  happy  I ! 
Eight  dearly  I  loved  them:  but  when  they  were  grown 

They  spread  out  their  wings  to  fly — 
Oh,  one  after  one  they  flew  away 

Far  up  to  the  heavenly  blue, 
To  the  better  country,  the  upper  day. 

And — I  wish  I  was  going  too. 

vn. 
I  pray  you,  what  is  the  nest  to  me. 

My  empty  nest? 
And  what  is  the  shore  where  I  stood  to  see 

My  boat  sail  down  to  the  west? 
Can  I  call  that  home  where  I  anchor  yet, 

Though  my  good  man  has  sailed? 
Can  I  call  that  home  where  my  nest  was  set. 

Now  all  its  hope  hath  failed? 
Nay,  but  the  port  where  my  sailor  went. 

And  the  land  where  my  nestlings  be: 
There  is  the  home  where  my  thoughts  are  senc, 

The  only  home  for  me— 

Ah  me! 

Jean  Ingelow. 


BUNKER   HILL   MONUMENT — WHAT   GOOD?  237 

Q^lll.—BUJ^KEB  HILL  MOJfTJMEKT— 
WHAT  GOOD? 

I  AM  asked,  What  good  will  the  monument  do  ?  And 
I  ask,  What  good  does  anything  do  ?  What  is  good  ? 
Does  anything  do  any  good  ?  The  persons  who  suggest  this 
objection,  of  course,  think  that  there  are  some  projects  and 
undertakings  that  do  good ;  and  I  should,  therefore,  like  to 
have  the  idea  of  good  explained,  and  analyzed,  and  run 
out  to  its  elements. 

2.  When  this  is  done,  if  I  do  not  demonstrate,  in  about 
two  minutes,  that  the  monument  does  the  same  kind  of 
good  that  anything  else  does,  I  will  consent  that  the  huge 
blocks  of  granite,  already  laid,  should  be  reduced  to  gravel 
and  carted  off  to  fill  up  the  mill-pond ;  for  that,  I  suppose, 
is  one  of  the  good  things. 

3.  Does  a  railroad  or  a  canal  do  good?  Answer:  Yes. 
And  how?  It  facilitates  intercourse,  opens  markets,  and 
increases  the  wealth  of  the  country.  But  what  is  this  good 
for  ?    Why,  individuals  prosper  and  get  rich. 

4.  And  what  good  does  that  do  ?  Is  mere  wealth,  as  an 
ultimate  end;  gold  and  silver,  without  an  inquiry  as  to 
their  use, — are  these  good  ?  Certainly  not.  I  should  insult 
this  audience  by  attempting  to  prove  that  a  rich  man,  as 
such,  is  neither  better  nor  happier  than  a  poor  one. 

5.  But  as  men  grow  rich,  they  live  better.  Is  there  any 
good  in  this,  stopping  here  ?  Is  mere  animal  life — feeding, 
working,  and  sleeping  like  an  ox — entitled  to  be  called 
good  ?     Certainly  not. 

6.  But  these  improvements  increase  the  population. 
And  what  good  does  that  do  ?  Where  is  the  good  in  count- 
ing twelve  millions  instead  of  six  of  mere  feeding,  working, 
sleeping  animals  ? 

7.  There  is,  then,  no  good  in  the  mere  animal  life,  except 
that  it  is  the  physical  basis  of  that  higher  moral  existence 
which  resides  in  the  soul,  the  heart,  the  mind,  the  con- 
science; in  good  principles,  good  feelings,  and  the  good 


238  THE   FOURTH   READER. 

actions — and  the  more  disinterested,  the  more  entitled  to 
be  called  good — which  flow  from  them. 

8.  Now,  sir,  I  say  that  generous  and  patriotic  sentiments 
— sentiments  which  prepare  us  to  serve  our  country,  to  live 
for  our  country,  to  die  for  our  country — feelings  like  those 
which  carried  Prescott,  and  Warren,  and  Putnam  to  the 
battle-field,  are  good — good,  humanly  speaking,  of  the 
highest  order. 

9.  It  is  good  to  have  them,  good  to  encourage  them,  good 

to  honor  them,  good  to  commemorate  them ;  and  whatever 

tends  to  cherish,  animate,  and  strengthen  such   feelings, 

does  as  much   right-down  practical  good  as  filling  low 

grounds  and  building  railroads. 

Edward  Everett. 

CXIY.— PSALM  OF  PBJ.ISE, 

ALL. 

PRAISE  ye  the  Lord :  for  it  is  good  to  sing  praises  unto  our 
God ;  for  it  is  pleasant,  and  praise  is  comely. 

FIRST  VOICE. 

He  healeth  the  broken  in  heart,  and  bindeth  up  their  wounds. 

SECOND  VOICE. 

He  telleth  the  number  of  the  stars;  he  calleth  them  all  by 
their  names. 

ALL. 

Great  is  our  Lord,  and  of  great  power :  his  understanding  is 
infinite. 

THIRD  VOICE. 

The  Lord  lifteth  up  the  meek: 

He  casteth  the  wicked  down  to  the  ground. 


Sing  to  the  Lord  with  thanksgiving ;  sing  praise  upon  the  harp 
unto  our  God : 

FOURTH  VOICE. 

Who  covereth  the  heavens  with  clouds,  who  prepareth  rain 
for  the  earth, 
Who  maketh  graas  to  grow  upon  the  mountains- 


PSALM   OF   PRAISE.  239 

FIFTH  VOICE. 

He  giveth  to  the  beast  his  food,  and  to  the  young  ravens 
which  cry. 

SIXTH  VOICE. 

The  Lord  taketh  pleasure  in  them  that  fear  him,  in  those  that 
hope  in  his  mercy. 

ALL. 

Praise  the  Lord,  0  Jerusalem ;  praise  thy  God,  0  Zion, 
For  he  hath  strengthened  the  bars  of  thy  gates;   he  hath 
blessed  thy  children  within  thee. 

SEVENTH  VOICE. 

He  maketh  peace  in  thy  borders, 

And  filleth  thee  with  the  finest  of  wheat. 

EIGHTH  VOICE. 

He  sendeth  forth  his  commandment  upon  the  earth; 
His  word  runneth  very  swiftly. 

NINTH  VOICE. 

He  giveth  snow  like  wool: 

He  scattereth  the  hoar-frost  like  ashes. 

He  casteth  forth  his  ice  like  morsels: 

Who  can  stand  before  his  cold? 

He  sendeth  out  his  word  and  melteth  them: 

He  causeth  his  wind  to  blow,  and  the  waters  flow. 

ALL. 

^    Praise  ye  the  Lord, 

Praise  ye  the  Lord  from  the  heavens: 

Praise  him  in  the  heights. 

Praise  ye  him,  all  his  angels : 

Praise  ye  him,  all  his  hosts. 

Praise  ye  him,  sun  and  moon : 

Praise  him,  all  ye  stars  of  light. 

Praise  him,  ye  heaven  of  heavens, 

And  ye  waters  that  be  above  the  heavens. 

Let  them  praise  the  name  of  the  Lord. 

TENTH   VOICE. 

Praise  the  Lord  from  the  earth, 
Ye  dragons,  and  all  deeps: 


240 


THE   FOURTH   READER. 


Fire  and  hail;  snow  and  vapor; 
Stormy  wind  fulfilling  his  word: 
Mountains  and  hills; 
Fruitful  trees,  and  all  cedars : 
Beasts  and  all  cattle; 
Creeping  things,  and  flying  fowl : 
Kings  of  the  earth,  and  all  people; 
Princes,  and  all  judges  of  the  earth : 
Both  young  men  and  maidens, 
Old  men  and  children. 

ALL. 

Oh,  come,  let  us  sing  unto  the  Lord : 

Let  us  come  before  his  presence  with  thanksgiving, 

And  make  a  joyful  noise  unto  him  with  psalms. 

For  the  Lord  is  a  great  God, 

And  a  great  King  above  all  gods. 

In  his  hand  are  the  deep  places  of  the  earth: 

The  strength  of  the  hills  is  his  also. 

The  sea  is  his,  and  he  made  it: 

And  his  hands  formed  the  dry  land. 

Oh,  come,  let  us  worship  and  bow  down : 

Let  us  kneel  before  the  Lord  our  Maker. 

For  he  is  our  God; 

And  we  are  the  people  of  his  pasture 

And  the  sheep  of  his  hand. 

Ps.  cxLvn.,  cxLvm.,  xcr 
Pemfs  Bible  Manual. 


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